


Three Cheers for Five Years

by kaywaeeve



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Future, Getting Back Together, Guilt, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Permanent Injury, Post-Break Up, Recovery, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, bc Plisetsky, motorcycle accident, otayuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2018-10-30 08:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 54,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10872882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaywaeeve/pseuds/kaywaeeve
Summary: "As much as I wish we could move on from this, I am not strong enough to bear the fact that I have hurt the one person I love more than life itself. Baby, I am so, so sorry. Words can't even begin to describe it. I want you to be able to forget the accident and keep on living. This time, I am not going to stand in your way. My Yura, you were the best thing that's ever happened to me, hurting you was no way to repay for the happiness you have given me. Please, know that I will never, ever move on from you. My body and soul are yours forever."On their five-year anniversary, Otabek Altin and Yuri Plisetsky get into a motorcyle accident, which injures Yuri to a point where he is no longer able to skate professionally. Driven by guilt and regret, Otabek ends the relationship over a letter that Yuri finds when he wakes up, in the hospital. Knowing the Ice Tiger of Russia, will hereallysettle for that?





	1. Asleep (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is an idea I had while trying to come up with something to write in between chapters for Crossfire, my Mafia Au fic. I will leave this prologue here real quick so I don't forget it and come back soon to continue and try to keep it short so I can have a bunch of short side stories for you <3  
> I promise, it will hurt, but it won't be for long. I love them so much, I just want them to be happy and healthy and loving each other madly.  
> Thanks for clicking on this!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is again. (I had deleted it on accident)  
> For those of you who are starting to read after 10/19, welcome. It was my pleasure to write this and I'm still hanging on to this vision of Otabek and Yuri. I hope you enjoy it as you move forward and, if you do, I hope to find you in the comment section. <3  
> If you're re-reading it because of the update for this repost, thank you for everything. You were amazing to me.  
> Good reading to all of us hopeless shippers, I guess.  
> ♥

 

           “Yura, hey, hey, hey”, the blonde heard, however muffled and far away. It was as if he were hearing it from underwater; his boyfriend’s urgent tone that he could spot from oceans away without a doubt, but still not be able to tell where it came from. Where Beka was, where himself was, why was it still so dark in this dream.  

          “Baby, listen to me, okay? Don’t fall asleep on me, alright? You can’t, Yura,”, _Did his voice crack just now?_ Then he heard the hiccups. Each time, closer to his ears. Each time, he felt them more, the light slaps on his cheek. “Yura, please.” If Otabek’s voice hadn’t gotten so close, maybe he wouldn’t have listened to the man’s pleading whisper. “Come on, baby, open your eyes… Look at me, I'm begging you.”

         He could feel Otabek’s hand cupping his chin. The man’s breathing over his lips. And the sirens. Yuri tried opening his eyes, but his eyelids felt heavy. When he was finally able to, his vision was blurry as if he had been holding back tears. It was night time, he was able to tell. And it was cold. It was definitely cold. It was like he had been holding unmelting snow balls in his bare hands. _Low blood pressure?_ For the way that he was looking at the sky and the lights on the poles were dancing among the stars, he realized that he was lying down somewhere out in the open. _Did I faint?_

Suddenly, Otabek’s face was taking up his vision. “Yes, there you go,”, the man whispered, showing a faint smile and… Relief? Yuri noticed his eyes were red and his entire face was moist with what he figured were tears. He felt the man’s hand on his hair and wanted to reach for his face, but his body wouldn’t obey him. _Why do you look so sad?_ He asked in his head, and, somewhere he thought that it was strange that he wasn’t voicing it, but, for some reason, he didn’t even get the urge. There was something definitely wrong, but he was so tired that he couldn’t care less.

       “We’re getting you help, okay? Just… Keep listening to my voice. It's alright, baby, I’m right here with you.” But Otabek’s voice was being increasingly taken over by the sirens. He didn’t know if it was the Police. Maybe he had been shot. He didn’t know if it was the Fire Department. Maybe there had been some kind of bombing or whatever. Maybe it was an ambulance and he was going to figure out that Diabetes had finally caught up with him. Those were all fleeting thoughts, though. All he wanted was to sleep and figure this all out tomorrow.

       His lids were slowly sliding shut when he felt Beka’s lips on his. "I love you." He hadn’t realized his lips felt cold as ice until the comfort of his boyfriend’s warmth met them. Otabek lined his eyes straight with his, but Yuri’s vision was getting blurry again.

       “I’ll be damned if this is enough to break you.” The sound of the sirens had slowed down and lowered the volume. It was almost like a hypnosis now. “You gotta stay conscious for me, Yura, please. Just a little longer, you—“

      _Babe, it's okay._ _I just need to sleep it off._

_I’ll be good as new in the morning._

“—can’t leave me.”

     _Why is it still so dark in the dream?_    


	2. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For heaven's sake, I know you're sorry  
>  But you won't stop crying  
>  This anniversary may never be the same  
>  Inside, I hope you know I'm dying  
>  With my heart beside me  
>  In shattered pieces that may never be replaced  
>  And, if I died right now, you'd never be the same."
> 
> [ **Three Cheers for Five Years - Mayday Parade** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2UImAIHO4SU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, let's begin this story right, shall we?
> 
> And thank you so very much for all your kudos and bookmarks so far. This is only my second fic on AO3, so I still get all giddy when the notifications come up haha anyway, you're awesome and I hope you enjoy the first real chapter.

 

 _“Come on, Beka, I’ll go to the alley over there and you pick me up on this monster Harley of yours just like ten years ago, okay?”_ Yuri could see himself taking off the helmet, his blonde hair falling, messy, almost reaching his shoulder, and getting off Otabek’s motorcycle. It was another flashback of that night.

         “ _Not tonight, my love, I don’t trust myself after that many shots.”_

Yes, Otabek had been in the backseat the whole time after they left the bar. Yuri had gotten his license as soon as he turned eighteen, but realized not long after that what he loved about motorcycles was that they reminded him of Otabek. After they started dating, Yuri only had to drive when his boyfriend had been drinking, which rarely happened.

          _That’s right. Why had he been drinking again?_

It was like his brain was a huge storage room with all of his thoughts and memories scattered haphazardly all over the place and, while searching for one event, he had to keep going through different wrong ones before finding the one he had been looking for. This time, it was like he had opened the drawer with the “Drinking” tag stuck on it, which led him to retrospect on the first time him and his, then, best friend Otabek drank until dawn after the Kazakh’s first gold at Skate America – it was exactly then when they vowed to never drink during the season ever again.

          “ _So I propose a toast to the future parents!”_  

          _A toast? With tequila shots?_ It was like Yuri was a spectator. In the image, there he was, over at the bar. Viktor on the left, Yuuri and him in the middle, Otabek on the right. Suddenly, he was watching from where he was seated. _“Fuck, I wish I was retired”,_ he heard himself complain as the glasses clinked in front of him. Yes, he wasn’t drinking because the Grand Prix Final was coming up. He had to go to practice the next day.

           _Was that tomorrow? Today? What day is it?_

  Yuri’s vision turned black. It was like he had woken up from a dream to shut eyelids. It wasn’t claustrophobic. He could hear a woman’s voice saying something in Spanish. The realization that they were still in Barcelona made him call himself a moron in his head. Of course it was Barcelona, they had come here for the GPF. _Viktor came as my coach, the pork-cutlet-bowl as Minami’s, Beka came to watch the skaters perform to the songs he wrote and produced, including Unborn and Awaited._

The Russian’s theme this year was Eternity. He had decided to play with the duality of forever, his short program ‘Unborn” meaning that nonexistence was what could truly be eternal.

           _Is it playing in my head? Shit, I am still not awake, after all._

          He could hear a weak voice humming the words to the song. He had heard something like this many times when Otabek was writing it. He would sing a verse, then write it down, then sing the same one along with another and write the new one down. Yuri found it fascinating.

 

            _I cannot tell light from dark_

_It’s something different from a burned out a spark_

_It is a fire that was never lit_

_To a heart that now won’t ever beat_

 

But, now, Otabek’s voice sounded filled with sorrow. He was still crying. Yuri didn’t know for how long he had been crying. He didn’t know what day it was that he had heard his boyfriend say “I love you” with such a saddened expression. How long had he been crying? Yuri had a realization again. One that he thought should have been obvious from start. Otabek was there. Wherever they were. He was singing to him his short program song.

 

             _All the words that I won’t ever say_

_Will wander space for all eternity_

_Untangled from the strings of time_

_Ghosts this unborn soul of mine_

 

 Slowly, Yuri was starting to feel it. Something moist on the back of his hand. The warmth under his palm. _I am holding Beka’s hand. How could I not have noticed that? And he is crying on mine, singing against..._ Yuri tried to gather his thoughts. Where could they be? “I love you”, “Stay with me”, “I am here with you, okay?”, ambulance sirens, ambulance sirens, ambulance sirens. Yuri could feel his brows furrowing. The noise was too loud. Otabek stopped singing. “We’re getting you help”. Ambulance silence. Honking. A very loud honk. “Yura, jump!”

              _I stayed on the bike. I pushed Beka off and I stayed. I didn’t jump, I— I did push him off, right? He’s fine, right? Beka!_

Yuri’s eyes suddenly opened to find Otabek’s concerned eyes looking at his, then turning to surprised, then relieved in a matter of seconds. The Kazakh had one hand on top of the Russian’s head and another on his left arm. Yuri realized he was sweating. He had panicked and his boyfriend was trying to calm him. Those brown eyes were so red and swollen, they broke Yuri’s heart. He started to feel tears of his own slowly running, warm, down his cheeks. He tried to say the other man’s name, “Beka” rather, but the sound didn’t come out. “Shhhh”, Otabek let out before laying a kiss on his boyfriend’s eyelid with trembling lips. _“Don’t strain yourself”_

_Strain myself? By speaking?_

Yuri looked around. It was definitely a hospital room. The walls were light blue. There was a chair beside the bed. _Otabek was sitting there. He was singing against the mattress, that’s why his voice was so muffled._ There it was. What had happened. Yuri’s right leg was lifted up high. It wasn’t painful. _Good grief, a broken leg? A freaking traffic accident and I get a lame ass injury like this?_ He would not have given it a second thought if it weren’t… _Fuck, the GPF. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

\- It was a week ago, Yura. – _What? The accident? The GPF? –_ You have been sleeping for six days. – Otabek’s voice was almost silent by the end of sentence. He had taken a step back from the bed and was wiping his tears as they came with the back of his hand. – You missed the Grand Prix Final.

           The Russian closed his eyes, sinking his head deeper into the pillow. _Shit. Pork-cutlet-bowl’s bottle blonde won my gold medal for sure. Viktor’s gonna break my other leg. Fuck._ He heard the chair move. Otabek sat back down. Yuri opened his eyes to look at him, the man with elbows on his thighs, both hands over his eyes. _I am fine, you are fine. Why do you look so sad?_ His boyfriend was gasping for air, his shoulders were shaking.

\- Yura, I am so sorry.

          Otabek had never sounded so fragile and… defeated. _What would you have to be sorry for? You were drunk, I was stupid and shit happened, yes, but it’s nothing for you to be sorry for, Beka._ Knowing he couldn’t speak, Yuri decided to reach out his hand to the one covering the other man’s eye and try to pull it away. The needles in his arm poked him a bit, but he didn’t care. Nothing could hurt more than what he was seeing right now. Than the sound he was hearing right now. The one he loved… broken.

          The Kazakh took his hand with both of his, leaning forward to rest his head against the back of his own, his elbows on the edge of the mattress, and open his eyes to look at Yuri. _You know, your eyes are smaller than the piggy’s right now, babe,_ was what the Russian wanted to say, but he offered his boyfriend a smile instead, laughing at his own untold joke. Otabek only gazed at him, as if he were watching an angel.

         - I love you. – he said – I love you so much I feel like I could die right now, knowing that you are awake, holding your hand, with your smile being the last thing I ever saw, and die a happy man.

        _Don’t say that, stupid._ Yuri wanted to frown, to show him a face, to scold him for talking about dying so nonchalantly, but his eyes filled up with water. In front of him was a man he had known and loved for ten years. One he had cried for all the entirety of his late teens, from missing him, from longing for him, for wishing for a day that turned out to be their entire five years together: the day that would know, deep within their hearts, that they were loved exactly as they were, forever.

         Yuri’s theme this year was Eternity because he had finally encountered something that made him want it to be possible. For something to be eternal. _Knowing that you are here, holding your hand, with your smile being the only thing I see… forever. I would live a happy man._ The blonde only mouthed the words “I love you”, careful to pronounce it perfectly, so his tongue would reach his teeth on the “L” clear enough for the Kazakh to make out, his bottom lip touching his teeth slightly on the “Y” and his mouth paralyzing on the “U” as Otabek nodded. “I know” he repeated twice, his eyes closing tighter each time as if knowing weighed on him.

          Somebody walked into the room. “Con permiso”, she said. It was the voice from before. A nurse. Yuri had enough knowledge of Spanish to understand that she had asked how long he had been awake, to which Otabek replied with “Only a few minutes”, then, she asked how and that’s when he started to get confused. He heard the words “pesadilla” and “tremiendo”. _He’s saying I was shaking as if I were having a nightmare? “_ Lo dijiste algo para que se pusiera asi?” _“Did you say anything to him... for him to.. get like this?” Like that? Damn, I don’t even know._

\- No, yo no le dije que—

         Otabek stopped. He swallowed. _What didn’t you say? What is there for you to tell me? You know I am looking at you, look at me. Fuck, I am thinking all kinds of Passengers crap now, Otabek, damn you._ But his boyfriend wouldn’t, for the life of him, turn his head. Yuri started to squeeze the other man’s hand. Blood started to be drained from his vein instead of the serum being injected into it. The woman’s eyes widened. She quickly reached out for the needle, Yuri was too curious to care, so he started hitting the mattress with his other hand. _Fuck you, look at me._ Otabek got up.

         - Yura, you have just gotten out of surgery, you can’t strain yourself like this.

        Now, it was Yuri’s turn to stop and swallow. _I must be on a shitload of drugs, that’s why I can’t speak. Why I don’t feel any pain either._ But this couldn’t be it. Otabek could have easily told him he had gotten surgery. It was a broken bone; they rip the skin sometimes. It had to be something else. But he was starting to feel sleepy again. _Damn hag dozed me._ Otabek’s torso was hovering over him, one arm on each side of Yuri’s body. He heard Otabek’s voice telling him to rest and felt a kiss on cheek. He was almost losing consciousness when he heard what he could have sworn was “Why did you have to push me off?”

         

   _\- Please, Beka. – he whined – You’ll deny me on our anniversary?_

_\- That’s technically tomorrow._

_\- And here I was, thinking you were gonna ask me to marry you or something, when, after five years, FIVE YEARS, you won’t even pick me up at an alley like a streetwalker._

_Otabek froze. His eyes wide. Yuri wanted to take it back, he didn’t need to get married, not officially anyway. But he wanted to do it again, to repeat the moment when his boyfriend took his breath away ten years later, so he decided to use the pity card. The Kazakh pulled him closer by the hand. Now Yuri was standing next to the man on the motorcycle._

_\- That’s not fair, Yura, and you know it. – he said, now pressing their bodies together with an arm around the blonde's back._

_\- Alright, then. Scooch for me and we’ll head back to the stupid hotel._

_Yuri knew Otabek could never win when he pouted like that. The Kazakh sighed, hooked the blonde’s chin with his forefinger and gave a him a kiss on the lips._

_\- Only until the end of the alley._

 

The images cut to the night sky. It was almost black and full of stars. _The flashbacks again._ He could see his eyelids slowly closing. _“Yura, hey, hey, hey”_ now, he felt the light slaps on his left cheek. Otabek was trying to keep him from losing consciousness. The perspective changed. Now, it was like Yuri as floating above his own body. “ _Baby, stay with me, okay? Listen to my voice. Don’t fall asleep on me, alright?”_ He was lying on the street. There was blood everywhere. Coming out of a wound on his forehead, making a puddle that became one with the blood coming from a deep cut on the left side of his ribs and the one from his leg. That one seemed to be the worst of all. _Fuck, I don’t wanna see this, my leg’s all twisted._ He didn’t want to panic. _I am seeing this in my head, it doesn’t mean it’s real._ But it was such a horrid sight. “ _It’s alright, baby, I am here with you, okay?”_

        _Beka, I am scared. I don’t want to see this. I don’t want you to see it. Please, look away. Please, baby— Wait, am I crying?_

 Yuri woke up trying to a wipe a tear with his right hand. _So I was crying here._ He looked to his left, but there was only the nurse, adjusting his serum. The image suddenly returned when Yuri looked at his lifted leg. He felt like throwing up. Making random “Mm” noises as loud as he could with his mouth shut, he caught the woman’s attention and pointed to his mouth. She quickly understood and picked up a vomit bag to hand over to him. She helped him sit and Yuri felt a sharp pain on his ribs, but the sickness was too much for him to lie back now. With every cough, the cut hurt more. Yuri felt like crying. There it was. The breakdown. He was sweating when he brought a hand to his forehead. He felt something soft. _Dressing._ What he had seen in the dream had been really a flashback. _Then, my leg…_ He felt like throwing up again. The woman was holding his hair back and caressing his back, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what he wanted. Otabek wasn’t there.

          Yuri Plisetsky was panicking and alone in a hospital bed in a different country.

\- I want Beka, get me Beka! – he kept repeating, in Russian, not even thinking the woman would never understand him.

         - Yuri! – Viktor stormed in – Tell me, what do you need?

        The blonde suddenly felt calmer when he heard the familiar voice and saw his coach’s face. Viktor, Yuuri, him and Otabek had become something like a family throughout the years. Yuri trusted him. It was fine. Viktor was there. It was fine. The other man took the nurse’s place trying to comfort him. “It’s okay, Yuri, breathe” he kept saying as the blonde tried to steady his breathing.

        - This hurts like a motherfucker. – Yuri whispered.

        - I know. – Viktor told him in an understanding tone – Your painkillers must be wearing off.

        - Where’s Beka?

        - Went to the hotel to shower. It’s the only time he ever leaves you.

       Yuri only nodded. _Yes, he has to shower, it’s more than alright. I can’t expect him to live on this chair. It’s okay. He’ll be back._

 _-_ I am sorry for the GPF. – the blonde said, with his head down. He could hear a huff coming from above him.

        - Don’t be. Minami won his gold and he is going to retire. Now Yuuri and I can give you a little brother or sister?

       Yuri chuckled and regretted as soon as he did. “Ow. Fuck.” He had vaguely recollected something about future parents. _That’s right, they were going to get a surrogate after piggy’s skater retired. This is what we were celebrating that night._

\- I’m not your son, you know.

       - What about Yuuri’s?

       - Beka looks more like him now than I do.

      He heard a laugh coming from the other man. This was fine. He was feeling a lot of pain, but Beka was all right. He had missed the GPF, but Yuuri and Viktor could finally start a family because of it. It sucked, but it could be so much worse. Otabek could be the one on that bed. The very thought of it scared Yuri to his core. _Yes, this is much better._

      - Is a niece or a nephew okay? – he noticed Viktor was braiding his hair.

     - Yeah. – Yuri murmured. _It’s more than okay, but it’s not like I’ll ever tell you._

It didn’t take long for him to feel sleepy again. He knew it was the painkillers. “Being in the hospital sucks” he said, as Viktor lay his head down gently. The other man kept brushing his finger through the blonde’s hair until he was completely asleep. This time, there were no dreams, no flashback. _Man, I must have been exhausted,_ he thought as he opened his eyes. There was an envelope on the chair where Otabek wasn’t sitting again. Yuri stretched to reach it, every inch of his body aching as if he had been cut into pieces and sewed back together. He lay heavily on his back before opening.

          _Yura,_

_They told me you were out of any danger, now. You know, you have been sleeping for ten hours as I am writing this. I also asked the doctors if I should give this letter to you. Once they gave me the OK, nothing changed in my heart. I almost wish that they hadn’t, so I could have an excuse and trick my own mind into thinking I am staying with you a little longer for your own good. The five days following the accident were easily the worst of my life. You had a severe concussion, did you know? They told me they didn’t know when you would wake up. Every second felt like an hour watching you sleep, something that was once so therapeutic to me. I waited outside the operating room three times, wishing I could trade places with you._

_Because it should have been me, Yura. I keep thinking you should have jumped, not pushed me, but I shouldn’t have let you get on that goddamn bike in the first place. It was my fault, Yuri. Everything that you went through, the pain that you must be feeling, the damage this will cause to your career – the leg injury and missing the GPF. It’s all on me, baby, and I can’t stand it. I can’t look at you in the eye anymore, not after the accident, not after you not blaming me for anything and smiling at me, telling me that you loved me as if I deserved it. You didn’t deserve any of this. You are the most beautiful, strong-willed, kind-hearted, loving human being I have ever known. I don’t deserve you. I never did, really, but I hadn’t gotten you in a traffic accident. You hadn’t saved me from one for the cost of your own well-being either._

_As much as I wish we could move on from this, I am not strong enough to bear the fact that I have hurt the one person I love more than life itself. Baby, I am so, so sorry. Words can't even begin to describe it. I want you to be able to forget the accident and keep on living. This time, I am not going to stand in your way. My Yura, you were the best thing that's ever happened to me, hurting you was no way to repay for the happiness you have given me. Just know that I will never, ever move on from you. My body and soul are yours forever. I know you will come out of this even stronger, but that isn’t enough for me to forgive myself and it shouldn’t be enough for you forgive me. Hate me, Yura. Hate me with all that you have. Wish you hadn’t pushed me off. Hate me in a way that, if you could turn back time, you would’ve just jumped._

_Get back up soon,_

_Otabek._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, so I just broke my own heart and stuff...  
> On the next chapter you guys get to read Yuri's reaction.  
> In the meantime, penny for your thoughts?
> 
> Also, if you enjoyed this, here's a link for my long fic, [Crossfire](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10753662/chapters/23844057) and if you wanna find me on [Tumblr](https://myteru.tumblr.com/).


	3. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I swear that you don’t have to go_
> 
> _I thought we could wait for the fireworks_
> 
> _I thought we could wait for the snow_
> 
> _To wash over Georgia and kill the hurt_
> 
> _And I thought I could live in your arms_
> 
> _And spend every moment I had with you._
> 
> _Stay up all night with the stars_
> 
> _And confess all the faith that I had in you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad to be finally posting again. It's really cool to share stories like these when you're in such an awesome fandom. Thank you so much for taking the time to comment and leaving your kudos, your feedback is so important and means the world to me.  
>   
> Before we get to the chapter, here's a link if you wanna listen to [Three Cheers to Five Years](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2UImAIHO4SU), since the character limit wouldn't let me leave it in the summary, and a headsup that there's a link to every song mentioned on this chapter, so keep an eye out for that underlined title if you'd like to hear it.     
> 
>  
> 
> P.S.: ~ domestic Otayuri is l i f e, gurl whaaa ~
> 
> .

* * *

 

 

     _“Otabek would soon get up. His head was always chaotic in the most poetic way. Every night, they would take a shower – when it was off-season, like tonight, and Yuri didn’t feel gross from sweating all day at practice, they would do it together, mostly silently, only feeling each other’s skin underneath their fingertips, occasionally laughing when Yuri bit his boyfriend’s shoulder playfully as the blonde scrubbed the other man’s back or how Otabek liked to shape Yuri’s hair in weird ways when shampooing. Yuri always realized it, even if he were facing the other way, Otabek would ask “Okay, now look at me” and the Kazakh would choke on a laugh and press his lips tightly not to let it out, but it didn’t take long before they both were laughing after Yuri narrowed his green eyes and groaned, pretending to be mad, took a handful of foam from his hair and blew it towards his boyfriend’s face. “Ow, baby, my eye!” “Serves you right, jerkface.” Then Otabek helped him blow-dry his shoulder-length hair before they left the bathroom to get dressed. Yuri wasn’t exactly fond of wearing pants to bed, so he would always sleep with only his underwear on and an oversized shirt. He bought loose ones specifically to wear as pajamas and, since it was common knowledge amongst their friends, tonight’s was a gray pullover with Cat Hair Don’t Care Fwritten on it that Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov had given him just because. “I couldn’t help myself. Sorry.”, the Japanese man had said when he handed the gift bag. Yuri thought it was hilarious how red his face was. “I’m starting to think I found a sugar daddy without the sugar. Sweet, eh? I won’t tell if you don’t.” With Beka, it was the opposite. He often chose not to wear a shirt or took it off when Yuri blatantly told him “Nope. Lose the shirt.” with a face as straight as when Viktor told him to get his feet off their coffee table._

_After Otabek retired, their sleeping schedules weren’t the same anymore. But he would always stay in bed with Yuri and play with his hair, talk about their day or watch some silly sitcom until the Russian fell asleep. Yuri always noticed when he got up, but pretended not to or, when he noticed Otabek’s foot fidgeting, the blonde pretended to fall asleep and moved away from his boyfriend’s chest so he could go work on his music. Tonight, however, Yuri felt restless._

_\- Um… - he began, running his fingers up and down the tan skin of the Kazakh’s abdomen. Yuri couldn’t find it in him to continue. Otabek was already so overwhelmed..._

_\- Mm-hm? - was the way the other man asked for him to keep going, resting his chin on Yuri’s hair._

_– Well, I…_

_Otabek let out a small chuckle. He had pointed out how cute Yuri was when he felt embarrassed._

_– Yes?_

_Yuri took a deep breath. He changed to a sitting position on the left side of the bed, hugging his knees and laying the side of his head on them to look at his boyfriend, who was now lying on his side to look at Yuri._

_\- Viktor and I spent the afternoon going through possible program music for next season._

_\- Yeah? Find anything worthy of Yuri Plisetsky’s figure skating genius? – he over-pronounced the last word, teasing with a smile._

_Yuri rolled his eyes. – You’re an idiot._

_\- Sorry. I meant it, but sorry, go on._

_\- It turns out nothing is worthy of Yuri Plisetsky’s – the blonde tried to stay serious, but trailed off and hid his face on his knees, continuing while laughing – … figure skating genius. God, I hate you.”_

 

* * *

 

 

It was taking Yuri every bit of strength he had left to keep his breathing steady and let the tears run down his cheeks silently, motionless. He tried to empty his mind, but ended up replaying scenes from his and Otabek’s life together in St. Petersburgh. He wasn’t despairing because he was _shocked_. The last thing he remembered was waking up to those brown eyes, right there, with him, as they had always been. Before that, only bits and pieces of a week ago. Even on those, he wasn’t alone. They had come to Barcelona together, picked up the Harley at the Rental, checked-into the same room, made love and slept through the night on the same bed, woken up to the same annoying alarm, posted a picture of each other brushing their teeth, eaten breakfast with Viktor and Yuuri, _together_ , gone to the same rink, left to the same bar and, even after their friends took a cab back, they stayed, together. _I don’t know how to not be… Together… Anymore._ His eyes were burning. Yuri was holding his breath trying to contain himself from sobbing right there. The letter was on the floor by the bed. Yuri had lost the strength exponentially as he read Otabek’s words and the paper had slipped through his fingers when they started shaking.

      From the corner of his eye, the blonde stared at it. A speeding car hadn’t hit him as hard as that godforsaken piece of paper.

      - Good morning, Yuri!

      _I didn’t even hear the door open._ It was Viktor. He was wearing a gray cardigan over a light green t-shirt, along with a heart-shaped smile, and holding a white plastic cup. _He’s even drinking crappy hospital coffee for me_. Yuri sniffed, something he had been holding back for a long time and wiped his face with a hand quickly when the older man turned to close the door. “Hey” was Yuri’s greeting, not daring to speak any further, fearing his voice would give away that he had been crying. The silver-haired man took a seat on what Yuri’s mind pointed out was “Beka’s chair”.

       - How are you feeling? – he asked, to which Yuri shrugged – Hospital life not doing ya much good, right? – Viktor had the forefinger In his free hand up, as if he had figured eve-ry-thing out.

       - That’s an understatement.

       - I have three news for you. One is amazing, one is good and the other is… not so good. Which one do you feel like hearing first?

      _That third one must be my boyfriend leaving my ass._

      - I think that not-so-good one is another understatement of yours, so I’ll pass on that one for now.  

     - Okay, so I’ll tell you the good one first. – Viktor finished his coffee In one gulp and put both elbows on the bed, cupping his chin with both hands. _You look like a nine-year-old. A nine-year-old girl_. – My Yuuri is just outside. You’ll finally get to see him, since you were always asleep when he came to keep you company.

     - Oh, so you guys are _not_ glued together. That’s shocking. – _Okay. I am managing to fake it good, somehow._

     Viktor tilted his head and let out a laugh. _He’s doing that thing where he tries to “laugh because it’s contagious” when someone is feeling down._

       - We are, in spirit. – the blue-eyed man winked – But he wanted to bring you breakfast himself, he even Googled how to say it to the nurse and everything. Isn’t he the sweetest?

       - Yeah, I think I got cavities just by _hearing_ it.

       Yuri was trying to mimic his usual self, but he was monotone. Viktor had figured it out for sure, but was trying to find the right time to try and drag him into a conversation about his feelings. That could not happen right now.

        - The amazing news is that they are going to let you leave this distasteful place tomorrow. – Viktor eyes looked genuinely happy – Can’t travel yet, though, so we rented this lovely loft-style beach flat for us. Yuri, you won’t believe it, it looks so much like your apartment, you are going to feel right at home… - Viktor’s hands were now holding the edge of the bed, his eyes saddened and his voice sounded concerned – Yuri? What’s wrong?

          _Our apartment._

 

* * *

 

 

         _After their first figure-skating season as an official couple was over, they took two weeks off. Otabek came to St. Petersburgh to spend some time with Yuri; no in-between-competitions, no computer screen in between them, nor walls like when they had stayed with Yuri’s grandfather in Moscow. They were finally going to be able to really be together. Alone. It was also the first time Yuri was going be anybody’s host. He had lived with Yuuri and Viktor for three years, before they got married, and still spent most of his days at their place. He had gotten used to being around people who treated him kindly and were like family, although slightly annoying. He only went to his apartment to give space for the husbands to do it, basically._

_Therefore, he had no idea how to stock the fridge or what he had to have to spare, like blankets or towels or… a toothbrush? Like a hotel? Yuri was clueless. He asked Yuuri for help with everything Otabek might need and they went to the drugstore, to the supermarket, to the bakery nearby. Yuuri even took him to a department store._

_"You know, in case you need, um… spare, um… underwear."_

_Nobody could tell which was redder: their faces or the tomatoes inside the plastic bag._

_Yuri would never forget how his heart was racing as he waited at the gates in the airport. How Otabek’s eyes lit up when encountered his. How the Russian wanted to run to him, but his feet seemed to be stuck to where he was standing. “So this is why there is always an airport scene in chick flicks. Something about this place makes you sappy.” But it wasn’t the airport. It was the sight of the man with headphones around his neck arriving to his home, not for a competition, only to see him, to be with him, because they were finally together, because they loved each other. Otabek’s quick steps while carrying his luggage made Yuri smile and bite his lip._

_“In a hurry, are we?” was the first thing he said to his boyfriend when he arrived to St. Petersburgh. It was such a barefaced bluff people could notice it from miles away._

_“God, you look even better than I left you” was the first thing the Kazakh told the Russian, way too quickly, way too eager, as his hands reached the blonde’s blushed cheeks to bring his face closer for a kiss. “I missed you.”_

_“People are taking pictures.”_

_“Screw ‘em.”_

_Yuri lifted his eyebrows and opened his mouth in surprise. It was rare for Otabek to show the slightest sign of aggressiveness. Then, wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders._

_“_ _Good boy” the blonde said, before leaning forward so his lips were just an inch away from the other man’s ear. “I’m taking you back to my apartment now so you can do just that… to me.”_

_If there was something Yuri loved was how Otabek so clearly wanted him. The Kazakh was usually so stoic and composed, but it didn’t take much for the blonde to make his boyfriend’s eyes turn pitch black and his voice become hoarse. Teasing him was one of Yuri’s favorite hobbies, but he felt sad when it was over. Because there would be months before they could see each other again. Before he could observe how Otabek’s behavior differed in the morning. How he made breakfast singing The Neighbourhood. How it was the perfect sound to wake up to. Otabek would continue to sing after Yuri entered the kitchen nibbling the other man’s ear from the back, and gesture for him to do the rap part of[Wires](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BwcZ81SftVw). Every moment that the Russian’s mind wasn’t filled with this strange joyful feeling, he would remember: “Oh, he’ll leave.”_

_It was like that when they went to visit every tourist spot in the city with Yuuri and Viktor and the four of them got along so well. Three people who didn’t mind Yuri’s bad temper and foul mouth, who cared deeply for him, actually. But one of them would be leaving soon. When, after Otabek tasted the pork-cutlet-bowl pirozhkis Yuri had made, the man high-fived him after the first bite,_

_“This is awesome, Yura! Good job, good job.”._

_There wouldn’t be anybody as lame as that guy anywhere near him soon. Yuri felt like he was never going to listen to anything other than The Neighbourhood after his boyfriend left, not after having sex to[A Little Death](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bRfMwoIizTQ). To remember him, the warmth of his body, because his skin would be miles away from the Russian's touch soon._

_Otabek always noticed when Yuri’s eyes wandered. He had used every variation of “What’s wrong?”, but Yuri always shrugged it off in different ways. “I want to adopt a cat, but I travel so much, I don’t think it would be fair.”, then they would talk about it. “Nothing, I just missed you.”, then Otabek would tell him “I missed you, too” and add the pretty words he knew how to put together and had the heart to voice, which was different from Yuri._

_“You’re like an oasis, Yura.”_

_Until it got to a point where the blonde would just let out a whine and hug him and Otabek said “Baby…” in the same tone of that “What’s wrong?” and hugged him tighter, until Yuri looked at him and the Kazakh kissed every bit of his boyfriend’s face, telling him “Ugh, I love you.” in between them until he smiled._

_But it came. The day Beka would have to leave. It was actually very early in the morning and Yuri had helped him pack the night before. The sound of the alarm felt like a slap on Yuri’s face. He should’ve asked him to move there. He should move to fucking Kazakhstan. By the time he woke up that morning, his first instinct was to follow Otabek anywhere. But he just got up and walked him to the door, wearing an oversized sweater that reached middle of his thighs._

_\- Will you, please, go to Viktor and Yuuri’s today? – the man asked by the door._

_\- I’m fine on my own, Beka._

_“I’m lying. Don’t go.”_

_\- Somehow I doubt that. – he said, and put both of his hands on the sides of Yuri’s face. – Promise me you won’t be here alone? I am worried about you._

_“Worry about me enough not to go.”_

_\- Fine. Mom. – was what came out as Yuri rolled his eyes._

_Then, the Kazakh kissed his forehead and reached for his suitcase. After bringing it to his side, he brought Yuri into a hug._

_\- This is so hard. - he said._

_Yuri remained silent, thinking it was harder than he ever thought, grabbing Otabek’s leather jacket as tightly as he could and resting his forehead on the man’s chest._

_\- You know I love you, right? - the man asked, kissing the top of the blonde’s head._ _Yuri nodded, not moving - Will you come visit me sometime?_

_"I would go right now if only you asked me, but you don’t. I keep waiting for you like a loser. This isn’t like me. When it comes to you I always feel so… insecure."_

_\- Babe?_

_"Oh. Fuck it."_

_\- Stay. – he murmured._

_Otabek brought his hand to Yuri’s neck to lift his face. – I can’t, love, I’ll miss my flight._

_\- No. - Yuri took a deep breath, then gently took his boyfriend’s hands away from his neck, taking a step back to look to a very puzzled expression on Otabek’s face. The blonde swallowed and crossed his arms on his chest, fidgeting on his feet, thinking that he needed to show his intentions with no more than what he had already said otherwise he would just dismiss the impulse altogether. He knew he was blinking too much, but stared straight into the brown eyes in front of him. – **Stay.** – He repeated firmly, over-pronouncing every letter so that the Kazakh would understand._

_Otabek had a way of talking with his eyes. First, they said “What do you mean?”, then it was something like “For real?”, then “Are you sure?”, then one that came with a sigh of relief, “Thank God”. Otabek didn’t even bother to bring his suitcase back inside. He lifted Yuri up and, by reflex, the blonde wrapped his legs around the other man’s waist, speechless. The only reply he ever got before moving in together was “Screw the flight”._

 

* * *

 

      

      Yuri hadn’t noticed a tear had fallen while Viktor was talking. He suddenly realized his eyes were open wide. Viktor had stretched his arm so that he could wipe it away with his thumb.

     - What is it, Yurochka?

     Viktor sounded so deeply concerned and distraught. He didn’t know how to deal with people crying. Yuri moved only his eyes to the letter on the floor and Viktor’s followed. He, first, furrowed his brows, then got up to pick up the piece of paper. The silver-haired man started reading as he stood, mumbling words like “Oh, no…”, “Yuri…” and occasionally looking up to catch the other man’s expression, but always finding the same one: tears falling silently to the sides because of how heavily and straight Yuri was lying while looking at the ceiling. _I have to control myself._

        Viktor sat back down. He had his fingers crisscrossed on the edge of Yuri’s bed. It took him a while to find the words, but the blonde didn’t mind the wait. He wished he could’ve dragged out this talk for longer.

       - Yurochka, after the accident, Otabek called me desperate because they had rushed you to the operating room because you were unconscious, with a severe concussion, a piece of glass from the windshield in the middle of two of your ribs and a leg broken in two. – his eyes were closed, as if the very memory was too much – Otabek had a dislocated shoulder.

       Yuri turned to him. _What?! Even after I pushed him off?!_

      - I had never seen him like that, and it was understandable, we were all really worried about you; we camped inside this hospital through every day you spent sleeping, through each of your surgeries. I wanted to get the doctor here to explain it better, but, after the last one, on your right knee, they said that… - a deep sigh – that you wouldn’t be able to skate professionally anymore and Otabek—

      - Was that what you were going to tell me? That I couldn’t skate anymore? – Yuri’s face was expressionless, just like his voice was emotionless. The other man closed his eyes and nodded slightly. Yuri huffed. _Fucking stitches._ – Didn’t any of you _geniuses_ ever consider that I might’ve figured as much?

      They heard the door open this time.

     - I’m sorry, my hands are full, I couldn’t knock. – Yuuri was carrying a tray. – Good morning, Yurio.

    It was good to see him. _It was_ , but Yuri could not show it. Trying to control his breathing was starting to make him feel suffocated, so he gave the Japanese a glare that he must've been used to, but did not deserve. Yuuri stopped a step away from the door after gently kicking it closed. He had this obvious awkward expression on.

     - Would you like for me to just leave the tray here or… - came out as a murmur. It was clear Yuuri was trying to sound understanding, but the disappointed undertone was there. He had been wishing to see the Russian awake for a week now, he didn’t want to leave.

     - I’m not hungry. – Yuri said.

     “Oh.” was the other man’s reply before leaving the tray on the desk in front of the bed.

    - Yuri and I were just talking about his skating. – Viktor said, stretching his arm to hold his husband’s hand and pull him closer. Yuri stood next to the chair, one arm around Viktor’s shoulder while the silver-haired man made circling movements with his thumb on the back of Yuuri’s hand absentmindedly.

 

* * *

 

 

           _“If you wouldn’t mind us stealing your thunder”, Viktor started with a bright smile, “My Yuuri and I would like to share some good news.”_

_The other couple remained silent, expecting the silver-haired man to continue, but once the blue eyes turned to the Japanese and said “Yuuri?”, as if handing the torch to his husband, all three of them made the thirty-four-year old blush with their stares and adjust himself awkwardly on the bar stool._

_“Well, um…”, he cleared his throat, “You are aware Vitya and I had already registered into an adoption agency a couple of years ago”, there was a “Mm-hm” coming from the blonde and a nod from the Kazakh by his side, “and how they reached out to us last month because a girl had chosen us, but we had to pass because of our schedules for next season and everything…”_

_"Yeah?”, Yuri was getting too curious, “Spit it out already.”_

_After a small chuckle coming from each of the men, Yuuri continued._

_“After speaking with Kenji today, he told me he will retire if he wins Gold at the Grand Prix Final or after next season if he doesn't, so Vitya and I decided not to even wait for the adoption agency again after that and find ourselves a surrogate.”_

_“Which is kind of bittersweet because the girl who chose us is such a sweetheart, she loves figure skating, traveling and dancing… She’s only fifteen, too, so, if we could, we’d adopt her **and** her baby.”_

_“You’re like a chronic adopter, you weirdo.” Yuri told Viktor while making a face. “When you get your baby after next season, maybe you should pipe down.”_

_“Says the man with three stray cats sleeping on his bed” commented Viktor “Oh, and a foreign body pillow. No, wait, I have one of those as well.”_

_Yuuri had gotten used to jokes such as these and paid no attention to them anymore._

_“Also, Kenji has been making the podium consistently, so it is pretty likely he will win the gold.”_

_There was as sarcastic “Okaaaay” coming from the three other men. Of course, Yuuri was surrounded by Yuri Plisetsky, Yuri Plisetsky’s coach and Yuri Plisetsky’s boyfriend. It wasn’t the best environment to brag about his skater. Otabek had ordered three tequila shots while they had been arguing and, after they were each with their own in hand, except for Yuri, who had finished his Sprite already, the Kazakh proposed a toast to the future parents._

_“Damn, I wish I was retired.”, Yuri complained as each of the men said “Cheers” and clinked each other’s glasses. The other couple said “Cheers, Yurio!” politely and in unison before taking their shots._

_\- Cheers, love. – Otabek whispered in the blonde’s ear with a voice he found so charming it made him suddenly feel shy and look down. Otabek gave him a kiss on the cheek and took his shot._

_\- Fuck you guys. – Yuri murmured.”_

 

* * *

 

 

      Winning gold medals had stopped being Yuri Plisetsky’s main goal in life. He would never say it, but all he really wanted was what Viktor and Yuuri had. The same love as ten years before, a home, the prospect of a family, exchanging vows of forever. He wasn’t the same fifteen-year-old driven by a competitive streak anymore. Watching the couple in front of him, though, the blonde realized he would have neither. He couldn’t skate anymore. Otabek had left him and broken their home, every hope of a future together. It was asphyxiating not to be able to curl up and drown in his own sorrow right there.

      - Are you not disappointed? – Viktor asked.

_That is another understatement. I am disappointed. I am metaphorically heartbroken and literally crushed. But I wasn’t yesterday._

      - I am twenty-five and have been overworking my body since I was six, it was bound to happen sooner or later. And my ankle never felt right after that sprain last season, so I was already skating on borrowed time.

     - Yuri, what do you mean? You told me you were fine. – There was Viktor’s “coach voice” again.

     - I lied, okay? Big fucking deal. I could still land all my jumps.

     - Yuri, that’s not the point—

     - Who the hell are you to talk? You skated until you were thirty, they almost had to push you out of the ice on a fucking wheelchair. So I sprained my ankle, lied about it, my body is all screwed to hell and I can’t skate, **who the fuck cares?!**

     By the time Yuri finished speaking, he was screaming. The intonation he had to use to make his anger, frustration, all the built-up indignation he felt over the consequences of the accident, how people had been trying to mislead him as if he were too weak to handle an injury and needed to be spared, for dragging this out for so long that him and Otabek could never talk about it. He was never given the chance to let his boyfriend off the hook before he took off like some sort of evildoer when all he had ever done was give Yuri a sense of purpose, one that Otabek had taken with him wherever he had gone. But losing control and forcing his lungs hurt like his torso had been smashed. After the last word, the blond grunted so intensely that making the sound scratched his throat, shutting his eyelids tightly and arching his neck in pain. He started whispering Russian curse words, sinking his head heavily into the pillow.

        _This is too much. My fucking boyfriend just left me and I can't even make a scene without the goddamn stitches popping open. He left me without a chance to punch his stupid face. This is not fair. I do not get to be angry, how can this be fair?  
_

        - Vitya, would you let me have a moment alone with Yurio, please?

      Viktor looked at Yuri, then back at his husband, who nodded reassuringly. The silver-haired man said a weak “Okay” and kissed the top of Yuri’s head before leaving. The “coach” had only made an appearance, this was the real Viktor, somebody who had treated Yuri like a son since he was fifteen. He wasn’t angry. Neither of them were, not at each other, and both of them knew. Yuuri took his husband’s seat next to the bed, crisscrossing his fingers in the gap between his knees, with his lips pressed together and staring at his own hands.

        - We care, you know? – he said.

        - I know. – Yuri replied, surprising the Japanese man.

       Yuuri noticed he had just opened a door. Although Viktor felt more like his real family, Yuuri was like a very close friend, so it had always been easier to talk to him.

     - About Yurio much more than Yuri Plisetsky, multi-medalist figure skater. - he specified - We just thought Yurio still wanted to be him a little longer.

     What came over him when Yuri heard those words was the burning sensation from your nose to your eyes when you breathe in water in a pool. The sudden urge to bawl his eyes out. No pretenses. The tears fell heavily as his pressed lips trembled, wrinkles forming on his chin and forehead. A crying face he rarely let be seen.

_All I want to be is Yura._

      “The piggy” had always been too sensitive and his features were forming a perfect sad-face emoji.

     - We are so lame. – Yuri said, letting himself cry through the words.

     Yuuri just chuckled and moved his chair, so he could put his arm under the blonde’s head. It felt almost miraculous how the younger man just laid on it, tilted his head a bit to side and let his tears fall on the pale human pillow he had underneath him.

      - It’s okay, Yurio, you can cry as much as you need.

      - No, I can’t. – Yuri replied with a muffled voice.

      - I won’t hold it against you, I cry like a little girl all the time—

      - No, I literally can’t. After I realized my boyfriend was dumping me over a letter, I sort of panicked and started sobbing and gasping and it felt like my ribs were gonna pop out.

      - Oh. In that case, you may be able to control your breathing better if you breathe only through your mouth— Hold on, what was that about Otabek dumping you?

     - He basically said he felt too guilty to be with me.

     - Did he say he wanted to break up?

     - Not with those words.

     - Did he say he didn’t love you anymore?

     - Quite the opposite. – Yuuri replied with a “Mmmmm”, as if he had made sense of everything at that moment – It doesn’t change the fact that he left me.

     - Yuri, he _loves_ you.

     - Yuuri, he’s _gone_.

     - He’s not _gone_ , silly. – The Japanese replied playfully as if he had heard the most absurd statement ever and reached for his pocket with his right hand.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“ - You hate me? – the Kazakh asked with a sly smile, kneeling on the bed next to the blonde, who still was hugging his knees, then moving to kneel in front of him before sitting with one leg on each side of his boyfriend. Otabek put his hands on each of Yuri’s sheens and rested his chin on the Russian’s knees when he looked up – Too bad ‘cause I’m kinda, sorta, like, in love with you and stuff. – He said, teasing, looking up on every direction before sticking his tongue out playfully.  
_

_\- You know, you didn’t look this lame when we first met, it’s kind of a scam._

_\- I actually like that the “Russian fairy” is a scam._

_\- Not true, it was very accurate when I did “Magic”._

_\- Yeah! With the purple eyes!_

_Yuri’s theme for last season had been “Magic” and his costumes were inspired by fairies and nymphs and he had worn light purple contacts complementing each of them. It had never felt right. The blonde adjusted himself on the bed so his thighs were on top of Otabek’s. He looked down._

_\- I don’t wanna do that anymore. – Yuri looked up to find understanding brown eyes in front of him. They had talked about how everything felt off with the programs. – I think I am ready to skate to something real, that’s why nothing Viktor and I listened felt right. I want it to be personal. – the Kazakh brushed the blonde hair away from the green eyes, allowing Yuri to keep talking. – After grandpa passed, Viktor knew I wasn’t ready to express my feelings, so we settled for the fanservice, but I think I am ready now._

_Otabek showed his boyfriend a gentle smile and a spark of pride in his eyes. Yuri had already forgotten why he had felt so uneasy starting the conversation. It was Otabek, after all. It was safe._

_\- What is it that you want to express, Yura? – He knew, but asking in such a supportive tone was his way to show Yuri how he was interested and wanted to listen._

_\- How I feel about grandpa’s death. – the blonde replied as his boyfriend started caressing his cheek with his thumb – And about how it is so definite… Dying, in general. Like the only way you won’t find your end is by never being born at all. Like, if you never exist, you will continue not existing forever. – Yuri averted his eyes – Forget it, it’s stupid.  
_

_\- It’s beautiful. – Otabek corrected immediately, turning Yuri’s face towards his gently. – Let me hear it, please?_

_\- I’ll talk all you want, if you do the music for me._

_Yuri could not believe Otabek had still been taken by surprise. It was like the day he had moved in. The same sequence of wordless questions. “What?”, “Seriously?”, “Are you sure?” and the sigh, with a smile. This time, the Kazakh put his hands on Yuri’s back to pull him closer and hug him as the warmth of Otabek’s bare chest seeped through the fabric of Yuri’s shirt._

_\- Thank you - was the Kazakh’s way of accepting the offer._

_They decided to talk further about the theme the next day because Yuri had practice early in the morning, but Otabek’s mind was beaming with inspiration. However, it didn’t matter what he had to do, he always stayed with Yuri until he fell asleep, playing with his hair, sometimes singing him a lullaby – which was usually[Lila](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KpUuRFZFR5o), by Bright Eyes._

_“Close your eyes_  
_The dark outside can't hurt you_  
_And I will never desert your bedside_  
_So close them tight_  
_The stars are so glad that they've found you_  
_And on the blankets that surround you_  
_They shine their light_  
_They shine their light_  
_Rest your head and I will be watching from the doorway_  
_As you drift into a perfect, peaceful sleep_  
_And morning will come in all its simple glory_  
_And you will find the light_  
_And I will be there_  
_Standing in your shadow_  
_Knowing that you once were mine_  
_All mine_  
_My baby”_

 

        _The last thing Yuri heard before he fell asleep that night was “Thank you for putting so much faith in me”, and he rubbed his nose on his boyfriend’s chest like their cats would do, pretending he was already asleep so that Otabek could work his brilliance in the living room through the night._

 

* * *

 

 

        What the Japanese man took out was his cellphone and made as if he was going to show something to Yuri, but stopped himself and decided to say something first.

        - When we arrived here, you were already in surgery. – he began, sounding as sad as Viktor had – But Otabek was outside the operating room, knocking his head against the wall, walking from side to side, grunting and crying… He is usually so stoic; I didn’t even know what to say to him. – Yuuri chuckled – Do you know how long I had to _beg him_ to let the doctor put his shoulder back into place? – he looked at Yuri with a smirk, as if he was laying out the proof for his last statement – He kept saying he didn’t need it, that they should be taking care of you instead… But I think he just wanted to feel the pain. He didn’t want it to stop before yours did, do you understand? Didn’t you feel relieved it wasn’t him in your place? – Yuri nodded – Well, he felt guilty because he wasn’t in yours. You know, I felt unworthy of Viktor whenever I messed up a jump, I can’t even imagine what I’d feel if he had gotten himself injured and were unable to skate for saving me.

        - I’ve been thinking about retiring since grandpa died. – Yuri let out bluntly. This was what he wanted to talk about. Yuuri looked surprised, but stayed quiet to listen. – He was my only, like, _real_ , genetic family. Now that he’s gone, I feel somewhat alone in the world. I know I have you guys and, well, used to have Beka, but ever since he died all I really wanted was to quit skating, because it didn’t fulfill me anymore, and move towards starting a family of my own. Maybe it’s out of loneliness, but my goal in life changed from gold medals to a kid, you know, of my own blood. I don’t know.

       - Yurio! – the Japanese shouted way too loud – You are so grown up, I can’t believe it, you’re thinking about babies, that’s so great, we can raise them like siblings and become a big family—

       - Sounds terrific, but I won’t be a single dad.

      Yuuri chuckled again. _Stupid pork-cutlet-bowl keeps dismissing my problems._

       - Your boyfriend texted me a little while ago. I couldn’t quite make out what he meant, but it makes sense now. - he said, as he showed Yuri his cellphone's screen.

 

       **“I’m staying in Barcelona in case Yura needs anything. I mean it, _anything_.**

**P.S.: I left his phone + earphones in the drawer.**

**P.P.S: Stay with him until he falls asleep even if he tells you to piss off.”**

 

     Yuri couldn’t decide if he smiled or cried, so he did both.

      - I _told_ you he wasn’t gone. - Yuuri said, cheering him up.

       - Damn Kazakh. – the blonde murmured, shaking his head slightly, with a smile caught between his lips – I swear to God, as soon as I can stand on my own two feet, I’m gonna hunt him down and I'm gonna _murder_ his leaver ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, was that long.  
> Thank you for reading!  
> Did this one hurt less? Did you notice I love to write headcanons for my own fics, hence the flashbacks? ><  
>   
> Also, I think Otabek would be a The Neighbourhood fan and Yuri would start enjoying their music because of him ('cause Yurio used to only listen to pop punk before) and they would have the best sex playlists ever. 
> 
> Lastly, I would love to know what you guys think of these two angels so far, so I would appreciate your comments veeery much!  
>   
> P.S: If you have questions/requests or wanna say hi, here's my [tumblr](https://myteru.tumblr.com/).  
> P.S.2: Here's my other - [long](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10753662/chapters/23844057) \- fic.


	4. Aware.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I will always remember you as you are right now to me
> 
> And I will always remember you now
> 
> So sleep alone tonight, with no one here just by your side
> 
> Sleep alone tonight
> 
> (So how does he feel? How does he kiss?  
>  How does he taste while he's on your lips?) 
> 
> [ **Three Cheers for Five Cheers** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2UImAIHO4SU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Ugh, I wish uni didn't take up so much of my time.
> 
> Before we move on to the new chapter, there are a few things I'd like to address: One, the prologue counted as a chapter, so I changed the number up there to six overall, but it's still the same five that I had planned to write for this fic. (It's pretty bad how attached I've gotten to this vision of the characters, I don't want it to end!!!)
> 
> The second is how much I am proud of Yuri. His character development in YOI was pretty good, but imagine ten years later, the kind of outstanding person he would become??? I love him??? And Beka, they are both angels.
> 
> The third and most important one is, damn, you guys are the best. Thank you so very much for your support, for your kudos and comments. It hasn't even been a month since I created an account on AO3, so I am not used to being the one receiving the love, you know? It's a little silly, but I appreciate your comments so much, I read them over and over and it makes me wanna write more. So, please, if you have the time, let me know your thoughts when you finish reading! It would mean the world to me.
> 
>  
> 
> P.S.: The links to the songs and reference images are there! Clink on the underlined word <3  
> P.S.2: Oh, and this fic is not edited for mobile reading, so if you're reading it on your phone and the html is all over the place, I am so sorry :(
> 
> Okay, to the chapter!

* * *

 

     They left the hospital at four in the morning to avoid the reporters that started camping outside as soon as the sun came up and any chance encounters with fans who came to leave the get-well cards, gifts, treats, letters and flowers that were already stuffing the box Viktor carried outside. It seemed like Yuri’s Angels had grown up along with him and the blonde found them less annoying, now. It had been a very long time since the last major altercation with his fan club, one that had happened when Yuri crashed a club where Otabek was DJing the night before his Welcome to the Madness performance, leading the fans to believe the Kazakh was a bad influence and sending hate to the man on every one of his social media accounts. Otabek had simply shrugged it off with “It’s a shame, but whatcha gonna do, right?”. Since he had already scolded the Russian himself for doing it, there was no real point in adding wood to the fire, was what the older man told Yuri – “What did I tell you?”, was what he had to rub on the teen’s face after him lashing on the “squealing demons” who called themselves angels, telling them to “get out of [his] face and get a life”, turned his Instagram Live comments into an endless scroll of “Yuri would have never treated us like this if it weren’t for that lolicon”. The fact that they called his friend that did not offend Yuri more than it making him the “Loli”.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“- Will you come with me or what? – the blonde asked impatiently, with his arms crossed and foot tapping the wood of the hall outside his best friend’s room._

_They had met for the first time in this same Barcelona hotel three years ago and, less than two minutes ago, Yuri had walked up to Otabek’s door saying “I am going to go get my septum pierced”. The Kazakh had opened the door with his headphones around his neck, wearing only sweatpants with “Kazakhstan” written on the sides. (He got especially patriotic during competition). With his brows furrowed and, noticing the lack of greeting, Otabek replied with a stretched “Hi?”, which only made Yuri shift his weight to the other foot and start tapping that one instead._

_It wasn’t rare for Yuri to get sudden urges by the end of the season. His best friend had already noticed how the blonde would start to doubt his program more each time he performed it. It was like staring at the same view for too long and its colors starting to blend together and rust until it becomes a background piece you wish you could paint over. After the Russian turned eighteen, as a way of celebrating, he inspired his entire theme on the Welcome to the Madness sudden urge and named it Edge. Yuri was already skating with his hair wet, wearing a black jean studded jacked with “Russian Punk” sprayed on the back and a bunch of press-on earrings. Otabek always saw it coming and expected how the Ice Tiger of Russia would cross every physical limit to reach the peak of the season in the Grand Prix. This would be the third year Otabek would accept he had fallen in love with the teen with feline, soldier eyes when Yuri won the Gold and he didn’t feel robbed nor saw it coming for being someone he idolized. He felt pride. And, as he watched Yuri get on his knees after putting his body through unexpected trials at his last performance, he understood very clearly what an epiphany was. Something that is suddenly clear. Something as if, while his mind was caught gazing at this beautiful, ever-evolving monster, too distracted to put up walls, to come up with excuses, his soul started lifting the sheets of the Kazakhstani flag that covered his feelings like a haunted house. “You did it, Yura. I love you.” Only to go back to denial after catching a flight back home._

_Yuri lifted his brows and shook his head: - So?_

_\- Are you sure? Won’t Yakov kill you?_

_\- Not if I win, and I need this to win._

_“Because it will make you feel confident enough to win is what you mean, right?”, Otabek thought to himself and grabbed a long-sleeved hoodie from the closet, putting it on over the chords of his headphones without ever leaving where he was standing._

_\- Got your keys? - Yuri asked and Otabek only spun the keychain around his forefinger once after closing the door and walking towards the elevator._

_The issue with the Kazakh’s epiphany, however, was that, this year, it was coming more frequently, not to mention earlier than both years before. For instance, while they sat in this tattoo parlor, Yuri on the edge of a black plastic wrapped chair and Otabek on a bench next to him, as the artist pressed the needle on Yuri’s skin, the Russian started laughing, with his eyes closed, at his own nervousness. And he kept adjusting himself, trying to straighten his expression, saying “okay, okay” and, when he felt it getting closer to him again, he then started giggling. Otabek could not help but start laughing as well, but, embarrassed for finding the sight of that blonde so unbearably cute, he pressed one elbow against his thigh and leaned down to rest his eyelids on his thumb and forefinger, the rest of his hand hiding all but the white teeth displayed so shiningly to Yuri like the Kazakh’s flushed lips were open theatre curtains._

_They were both so easily picked out in a crowd. One always kicking whatever was on his way, the other always walking away discreetly from any kind of social interaction. However, when they were together, this was how they always ended up: Laughing. Oblivious of the weight of their country bending their spines, of their relentless race against their own selves towards self-improvement, of the unknown cloud that, so knowingly, hovered above their heads like an omen that it was more, what they meant for each other was more than either of them let show. They always had a feeling, when they started letting themselves go like this, that they had been forgiven for something they couldn’t even name. Maybe just for being._

_\- Okay, okay. - Yuri repeated, adjusting himself again and taking a deep breath._

_The artist tried once more and the blonde bit his bottom lip, half to keep himself from laughing again, half from anticipation, and grabbed his best friend’s shoulder as the needle pierced his cartilage. Yuri’s eyes were already teary on the sides from the fit from before, the only reaction the movement got out of him was quick flinch, a tighter grip on Otabek’s shoulder for a second and it was done. The Kazakh’s left eye remained closed the entire time as he made of face that said “That’s gotta hurt”, only opening when the jewelry was already in place. Yuri looked down on him and smirked. “There’s your confidence”, the Kazakh thought to himself, “it’s mesmerizing.”_

_\- Alright, next. – Yuri said and started taking his[Brandon Boyd](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/7b/18/e4/7b18e4ce35b1b445c4e9c0b3b0e4877b.jpg) tank top off._

_Otabek lifted an eyebrow. – What are you doing? – he asked, curiously._

_\- Duh. They can’t pierce my nipples through my shirt. – the blonde replied nonchalantly._

_\- What the— Are you for real?_

_Yuri stuck his tongue out, widening his green eyes playfully and said “You should see your face” before throwing his shirt at it, making the Kazakh let out a groan, pretending to be mad._

_\- You’re impossible._

_\- Yeah, now take a picture of me so I can post it on insta and scare off some fan girls._

_Otabek folded his friend’s shirt over his shoulder and got up to stand in front of Yuri._

_\- Left my phone charging, so send it to me?_

_\- Sure. – the Kazakh replied, reaching for the iPhone inside his pocket._

_\- Should I tag you? I mean, they will start the whole devil on my shoulder crap again._

_Otabek huffed and positioned the phone. “So?”, was his reply. Yuri would always wet his lips with his tongue and bite on it with a sly smile when Otabek showed the, as Yuri called, “lowkey bad as fuck” side of him. The Kazakh caught himself staring at the screen, but quickly shook it off._

_\- Ready? - he asked and Yuri tilted his head down, looking directly at the camera. Otabek could swear those green eyes were piercing through the lenses and looking straight at his._

_\- The last thing you are right now is scary, Yura._

 

**YURI PLISETSKY JUST POSTED A[PHOTO](https://br.pinterest.com/pin/81416705736111109/)**

**@yuri_plisetsky: at Panic Station w @otabek-altin #Muse[#ShortProgramSong](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6uBK5kvakD8) #Edge #GPF2019**

 

 

* * *

 

 

    [ The flat](https://www.airbnb.com.br/rooms/2494484?location=Barcelona%2C%20Espanha&s=HYQHV8zm) where the three men would be staying had a suite, with a king-size bed, a bedroom with a bunk-bed and a sofa-bed (interestingly enough, there was also a crib). As soon as they arrived, Viktor and Yuuri were already reassuring the blonde that he would be the one taking the suite, but Yuri refused, saying: _“What? No, no, you guys need a door, I won’t subject myself to walking in on you. I’ll take the couch, thanks.”_ It was more practical, anyway, since the door next to the TV was to a guest bathroom and the kitchen was only a few steps away. The doctor had told him to avoid traveling until the end of January, which left him with more than a month in Barcelona, living with Yuuri and Viktor again, being in the same city as Otabek, but further apart than when they lived countries away. Because he would not have to bother pushing the coffee table closer to the sofa for there would be no need to find a place to leave his phone by his side, as they would so they would have the same perspective of each other as when they slept side by side on the same bed, because the call on Skype would never come. No FaceTime to show Beka the brick walls in this apartment, how it reminded him of theirs, indeed, but there was no singing blending with the sound of eggs boiling and the smell of over-sweetened coffee and freshly baked jam-filled pirozhskis. When Yuri didn’t text him after arriving, there would be no text asking if he had gotten home okay. There was not a sign of Otabek anywhere. It reminded him of his apartment, indeed, but this wasn’t home. Home was nowhere to be found.

    “He isn’t _gone,_ silly”. Sure, he had not hopped on a plane and disappeared off the map, but Otabek had left no sign of him. Yuri was told that his cellphone had been crushed in the crash and Otabek had bought him a new, upgraded one. After settling in their home for the month, Viktor and Yuuri went out to buy ordinary items like cleaning supplies and groceries. Then, Yuri laid down on the sofa-bed, holding his phone with his arms up above his head and just exploring the new item. At first, he thought he would have to back everything up from the Cloud later, but was going to register his Apple ID and do the basic settings right now. But it went straight to the home screen. There was a picture of Yuri, his blonde hair falling by the edge of the bed as he laid on his back and held Cherry, their Siamese kitty – her name was supposed to be Joan Jett, but when Yuri realized people would end up calling her JJ, he dropped the idea like a time-bomb -, over his head, similar to how he was doing with the phone at the moment.

     His home screen picture used be one he had taken one morning: Otabek sitting at the desk he had next their balcony, where his keyboard and laptop were placed, only his shoulders and the back of his head showing above the back of the chair. Viktor had asked if, maybe, Otabek might’ve been able to upload the old phone’s data to the new one, but Yuri told him they didn’t know each other’s passwords, so he couldn’t have, even if he wanted to. Yuuri and Viktor looked at each other from the corner of their eye and choked on a laugh.

_“Vitya and I use the same Apple ID”_

_“We only pay for the apps once!”_ , to which Yuri made a face.

_“Jeez, you guys married too hard.”_

     All of his favorite apps had been already downloaded. Even the useless ones that came with the iPhone had already been deleted. He wasn’t logged into any of his social media, though. On his camera roll, there were hundreds of pictures of the cats, him and Viktor, him and Yuuri, Mila, official photos from competitions, the ones from the last one he had been part of, that Otabek still hadn’t sent him, were there as well. However, the only thing Yuri could find of the Kazakh was his perspective. He was the calmness in the eyes of the Yuri who was being photographed. He was the blonde’s careless smile, the bite marks around his neck, that The 1975 t-shirt Yuri had worn to the band's concert, the tea inside the mug that said “I was normal three cats ago”. Otabek was the flush on Yuri’s cheeks, yet the devilishness on his grin, but nothing more than a faceless, formless, nameless detached observer, like a ghost only Yuri was able to see.

    He was overcome by this sinking feeling of loneliness. Yuri let his arms fall flat by his sides, holding his cellphone with one hand and staring at the roof tiles, thinking of how Otabek would have had to pick each one of those photos, the ones Yuri should see and the ones Yuri should not.

 **Hate me, Yura.** _I love you._

 **Hate me with all that you have** _**.** What did you leave me with? What do you want me to use? _

**Hate me in a way that, if you could turn back time, you would’ve just jumped.** _No. No way. If I had to relive that accident in an endless loop, I would save you each goddamned time. And this is why I understand why you’re gone. I would have left without even writing you a letter. I wouldn’t have stayed to keep you company as you remained unconscious because you put me first. I wouldn’t have sung to you because I would have thought my voice would be the last thing you would want to wake up to. I wouldn’t have cried holding your hand; I would have punched a mirror and let the blood drop from my knuckles instead of the tears I bottled up inside. I wouldn’t have told you that I loved you one more time because it would sound disgusting in my head after being unable to spare you from the pain. Even as you left, you loved me better than I’ve ever loved you. I will love you better now, and I will wait. But when I find you, I am gonna knock some fucking sense into that thick skull of yours... You jackass._

     Six months. They had said in five months he would be able to take out the cast and, within the first month of physiotherapy, he would be able to walk somewhat normally again, even if only short distances in the beginning. Yuri decided he would wait until he was his usual self before going after Otabek. Begging him to come back with unhealed cuts and crutches would mean pouring salt in his boyfriend’s wounds. Because Otabek was still his boyfriend. He had never agreed to this. Until then, he would take care of himself and live life as normally as possible. He didn’t need to mope around because they were still together, no matter how apart. He was in every song after Yuri logged into iTunes, finding a new meaning to everyone he listened to, matching every moment where things went wrong in the lyrics to that night.

 

_Now, even if it’s perfect, I can’t get carried away_

_And motivate my tongue in twisted ways_

_It felt like a good night_

_For dancing in the moonlight_

_In empty streets_

_Well, everybody’s got a reason why_

_If we could only just get it right._

 

     Yuri was singing along to the “Sing to me sweet, just like my memory” part of[ Without the Bitter, the Sweet Isn’t as Sweet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WpBBKZ2_4_E) when Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov came storming in, carrying bags up to his elbows, breathing heavily as if he had ran from the car to the elevator, then down the hallway towards their door, followed by an exhausted Viktor who seemed to have found himself matching his husband’s pace. Yuri was so startled he didn’t even get the time to be embarrassed by being caught in the middle of a song.

      - Yurio, - the Japanese man began in-between breaths as he placed the bags on the kitchen counter - have you heard?

    The blonde adjusted himself to sit on the couch. He kept forgetting he still had stiches on his ribs and laid back down.

    - Heard what?

    Viktor sighed and walked towards him, sitting beside the blonde.

      - It seems that somebody took a picture of you leaving the hospital on the wheelchair and now the rumor is that you can’t walk anymore.

    Yuri furrowed his brows and made a face.

    - What the fuck?

    - Whoever sold the picture said they were a visitor and heard from the staff that Yuri Plisetsky was now paraplegic.

    - What. The. Fuck. – he repeated, gesturing to his leg – Can’t they see I have a fucking cast on?!

    - Not from that angle.

    Yuri quickly searched his name on Google and found a number of articles featuring a picture of him on the wheelchair, but with his legs hidden by the open door of the car.

 _\- Sensationalist fuckers -_  he murmured.

 

** ESPN**

**FIGURE SKATER YURI PLISETSKY LEAVES BARCELONA HOSPITAL ON WHEELCHAIR**

 

** E! NEWS**

**FIGURE SKATER ALLEGEDLY PARAPLEGIC AFTER TRAFFIC ACCIDENT**

 

** FAIRYSANGELS | tumblr  
**

**THIS IS A CALLOUT TO ALL YURI’S ANGELS: LET’S SPAM OUR BABY’S INSTA WITH ALL OUR LOVE AND SUPPORT!!!**

 

    - I will release a statement denying everything. – Viktor clarified.

    - But that was not what I was talking about. – Yuuri said as he stood holding Viktor’s shoulders from behind him, like always. – Search for your boyfriend.

    They both stared at Yuri expectantly as he typed.

    - Huh?! - was what came out the blonde’s mouth as he read the headlines, clicking hurriedly on the first one, not even bothering to read the news and scrolling straight to the announced video.

 

**OTABEK ALTIN CAUGHT ON CAMERA ASSAULTING SPANISH PAPARAZZI. WATCH.**

 

    Viktor and Yuuri leaned closer to watch it along with him. The video started following Otabek, who was wearing a black overcoat and had his hands in his pockets, it couldn’t have been recorded more than a couple of hours ago. Clearly, the paparazzi started asking questions, like “Did you see Yuri Plisetsky today?”, “Are you on your way to visit him?”, “It is true that he is going to retire?”, to which Otabek blatantly ignored and continued to walk. _He’s absolutely hating this._ “How have you guys been doing?”, “Are you still together?”. No word.

_“Did he become too much of a burden for you now that he is disabled?”_

     Otabek stopped. Yuri knew him well enough to visualize the Kazakh taking a deep breath before saying over his shoulder, the camera finally capturing his eyes and they were livid: “ _The fuck did you say?”._ Otabek turns and pulls the camera from the man’s hand.

 _“Qué pasó, qué pasó?”_ the man repeats as the Kazakh approaches him, the camera only showing Otabek’s black military boots and the man’s dress shoes.

       “Oye!”, the man complains. _Beka fucking pushed him._ He throws the camera on the other man’s direction on the street and it starts capturing the cloudy winter sky of the city.

 _“Write this on whatever gossip crap site you work for.”_ Yuri imagined him kneeling in front of the man. “ _Ready? I’ll dictate it for you: ‘Otabek Altin didn’t beat the living shit out of me in the middle of the street solely because, as long as Yuri Plisetsky - who is doing just fine, by the way – is still in Spain **he can’t let himself be deported.’** ”  
_

 

 

* * *

 

 

**NINETEEN-YEAR-OLD MEDALIST YURI PLISETSKY CAUGHT IN NIGHT CLUB FIGHT**

 

     As time went by, Otabek and Leo de la Iglesia had become the closest to friends the Kazakh’s standards would allow. They were both music enthusiasts and Leo had started a conversation with him about it after hearing Otabek DJ’d. It was the first time the three of them and Guang Hong Ji had been assigned to Skate America at the same time. This was the night Otabek won his first Gold over Yuri. The Kazakh’s theme for the season was “Self” and portrayed the war between his heart and mind, performing his rational side running and hiding away on his short program and his sentimental side reaching out and embracing his own feelings. Yuri had been asking himself since the first time he’d heard about the concept what was it that his best friend’s heart longed for, but his mind wouldn’t allow him to fight for. The blonde, however, related to it to his very core.

     This was what he should have skated to. The love he buried deep within his soul because his head kept telling him considering there would be a chance was wishful thinking and it was stupid and pointless. They were friends. That would have to be enough. Yuri had started casually dating somebody else just before the season started. Otabek had broken up with Karina about the same time. And, tonight, they were together as friends, with friends. It was enough. _Nothing more than “enough”.  
_

     Leo and Otabek had gone to meet the DJ while Yuri and the Chinese man stayed in the crowd, dancing on their own to a remix of Sweater Weather. Until a gap was formed around Yuri, Guang Hong and a stranger, making Leo and Otabek run down the stairs to check what had happened.

    - Creep groped my ass so I clocked him. – was Yuri’s reply to the Kazakh’s “What’s going on? Are you okay?” while still shaking his right hand by his side – I’m great!

    Otabek turned to the man on the floor. He had blood coming out of his nose and was huffing like a beast.

    - Is that right? - the Kazakh asked. It was rhetorical. - In that case, would you like me to hold him for ya? - This one was meant for Yuri, but Otabek didn’t take his eyes off the man, who got himself up and disappeared into the crowd after a glare.

    The DJ [started playing ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S95U3QyvLx4)again. Otabek stood in front of Yuri, cupping his chin with his fingers to turn the blonde’s head to one side, then the other, checking if the Russian’s pale skin remained unscathed, but ending up catching the blonde’s green eyes when his face turned back to him. There was sweat dripping from Yuri’s forehead, blond hair stuck to his face, still smiling from telling his friend “I’m fine, Beka” as the Kazakh’s brown eyes scanned his features looking for injuries. When those green eyes became serious, Otabek noticed the first verse of lyrics had already passed and his hand was still on the teen’s chin. Maybe it was the music. The way it sounded like a heartbeat. The way Yuri’s pale skin was the perfect canvas for the blue and pink lights to make colorful shadows dance. Maybe it was how Yuri’s lips opened just a bit, but he stayed silent. Everything Otabek wanted at that moment was to pull him closer.

     God knows everything Yuri wanted was to indulge the eyes that stared at his lips so wantonly, to grab Otabek’s hair as their tongues moved deliriously to the beat in this rundown Southern nightclub. He could feel his heart beating in his throat. _Do it now. Don’t give me the time to think clearly._ They stayed in the same position for what felt like forever, but couldn’t have been because the guitar riffs had just now started.

     - I told you I’m fine. – Yuri said to his friend, trying to make it as if he hadn’t noticed the tension of the heatwaves coming from their bodies colliding.

     The blonde tried to form a smile, a playful laugh even, just like when the Kazakh kept turning his face, but all that he could muster was a hesitant grin, making Otabek’s hand leave his chin when Yuri looked down and tried to playfully push the other man with a much more believable _“relax, mom”_. But Otabek held Yuri’s left hand when it reached his chest. Maybe it was the music, but his best friend’s heart was pounding. Maybe were the lights that played Yuri’s eyes, but the brown ones in front of him were saying “I am not letting you run away from this”. Yuri could pinpoint the exact time he was found out. Right there, when his fingers curled and tugged on Otabek’s shirt that had been colored blue by the light. The Kazakh looked down to the scene, a metaphorical representation of how Yuri wanted to run away, but Otabek had him pinned against wall and wasn’t intending to let him go. Otabek tightened his grip on Yuri’s hand when he looked back up to find wrinkles forming in the middle of Yuri’s eyebrows, his eyes narrowed, his lips pouting. A face of a child who had just been caught doing something bad.

     Yuri watched as Otabek’s features shifted from a defiant and fearless gaze to looking down and pressing his lips together, letting go of Yuri’s hand and guiding it back to the space between them. He left without looking at Yuri again. For the blonde, the whole song was the soundtrack to an acid trip he didn’t want to come back from. Tonight was the first time that it was clear. Both of their brains were being confused by the same chemicals. The best friend wanted the other. The other wanted the best friend right back. But Damyen was a good man. It was still not the time. Yuri had been waiting for a moment like this for four years and it _still_ wasn’t right.

    Beka came back with a bag of ice and took Yuri’s left hand.

    - This isn’t _fine. -_  the man said, his voice was low and charged. He didn’t only mean the blonde’s red and swollen knuckles.

    - Leo, - Otabek called the man still petting a very shocked Guang Hong Ji’s head. They both turned around. – I’m taking Yura back to the hotel, it’s not safe for him to stay.

    The American slapped Otabek’s shoulder lightly _“I get it, man”_. They quickly said their goodbyes and the other two laughed with their forefingers over their lips when Yuri shouted “Yo, thanks for sneaking me in!”.

    - You shouldn’t punch random people, Yura. – Otabek said as soon as they stepped outside.

    - The fuck do you mean? Should I have just bent over?

    - What?! Fuck, no. – the Kazakh replied over his shoulder as they approached the motorcycle – The thing is you didn’t know if he had come with friends. Guys like that wouldn’t hesitate before ganging up on you.

    - Tsk. Sparing my face…

    - Hey. – Otabek turned around, putting both of his hands on Yuri’s cheeks. – I don’t wanna hear that from you or I won’t be able to sleep in peace when you leave to France.

    These kinds of gestures of affection weren’t rare for Otabek. Tonight, however, it was different. The tension came back. Yuri’s hands started sweating inside of his pockets, but the wind on his cheeks after they were let go of by warm palms suggested that something was missing.

    - Screw you, I’d do it again. – There was Yuri’s defense mode. The testy tone, the petulant words. The tingling sensation on his cheeks made him feel vulnerable.

    - Damn straight. – Otabek replied, handing the blonde the helmet. – It’s not that I don’t get it, Yura, if I had seen it, I would have punched him myself. You just need to be cautious, that’s all.

    - You can’t do that, he might have had a knife or some shit.

    Otabek lifted an eyebrow in a way of saying _“That’s what I’ve been telling you!”._ As the Kazakh unhooked his own helmet, Yuri dared to ask from underneath his.

    - Why? – His voice came out soft and timid. As vulnerable as he was feeling. From the way Otabek’s muscles tensed, Yuri knew he had understood. _Why would you care?_

    - Because it’s, um… - he cleared his throat – Sexual harassment.

    Yuri huffed. _What idiot would fall for that?_ But only showed his disbelief with a sarcastic and monotone “Gee, thanks” as he hopped on the motorcycle behind his friend who started it when Yuri wrapped his arms around his waist.

     - No big deal, for damn sure _Damyen_ would do the same. – the Kazakh commented before taking off.

 

 

* * *

 

 

     Yuri had his mouth open wide and a glow in his eyes that touched the other men’s hearts. It was good to see him happy.

      - Did you see that?! That was fucking badass! -

      He would always feel this peculiar sense of pride when Otabek lost his cool. His boyfriend never yelled, never broke anything, never hit anybody, but his eyes burned with rage while his voice remained ice cold. He felt proud to have a boyfriend that could scare people off just by glaring at them. Even prouder – and somewhat flustered – that he was the only reason Otabek would show that daunting side.

     - How did he know I was fine, though?

     Yuuri showed a text message again. There was a link from E! News attached to it, which Yuri figured was the one he had clicked on minutes before. It read “I know it’s a hoax, but just to be one-hundred-percent...?” to which the Japanese man had replied with “He’s settled and doing fine”.

    - Pff, you should’ve just told him my legs fell off or something. – _Maybe he would have come rushing in._

    The husbands offered the blonde a grin. Viktor got up.

     - Wow, somebody needs brunch.

     Yuuri kissed the top of the blonde’s head.

    - I’m sure he would gladly carry you everywhere. – he said, with an amused tone.

    The other Russian mimicked his husband’s gesture.

     – And I’m sure you’d still have a pretty healthy sex life.

    Of course, Yuri told Viktor to piss off and threw a pillow at him as the silver-haired man playfully ran to the kitchen.

    The blonde, then, put his earphones back on. _I haven’t even checked my social media. Fuck, am I wreck._ He had intended to, when their pictures together were missing, but his thoughts trailed off when the music started to get to him. There were thousands of notifications. Comments from fans on his pictures, mostly get-well wishes, pictures of him posted on fans’ Instagram’s with long captions confessing their love, lamenting the accident, praying for him to feel better soon, direct messages from every skater who was his acquaintance showing support. It was hard for him to believe so many people cared for his well-being. There were too many notifications for him scroll through and he ended up stopping before seeing one from @otabek-altin. Yuri only found the picture when he went to the man’s profile. It was a black and white [picture](https://br.pinterest.com/pin/493073859193757620/) dated to a week ago. A pale hand stung by needles curling its fingers in the space between the tan ones underneath it.

 

**@otabek-altin: Every time I tag you in a picture, you rush to be the first one to like and comment on it. You say you don’t want yours to get lost in the middle of the notifications. You say you have to be the first one to reply to my caption because you “don’t wanna leave me hanging”. Then it’s here, Yura. I love you and I’m waiting for you. Please, don’t leave me hanging.**

 

     Yuri’s free hand was shaking over his mouth. He instantaneously cried to himself. As deeply heartbroken as he was, he felt reassured. _This was before the ACL surgery. By this time, he still wanted to stay. He loved me then. I just have to recover and he’ll love me again. It will be fine._ There was a part of his brain that knew Otabek loved him this very second, but another could not help but wonder. Was he really too much of a burden? Even if he were still able to walk, was that night, the accident, the injury too much of a burden? Was Beka’s guilt engulfing the love he had for him? But Yuri had decided to wait. He wasn’t going to like this picture. Otabek probably hadn’t even checked Instagram since he had left. Posting it was a way to show Yuri how much he cared. That was then. If Otabek had bothered to login, maybe he would've even deleted it, was what Yuri thought. Even so, even making his absence seem that much more palpable, Yuri treasured the moment wen his boyfriend had stopped to post that picture. He wasn’t much the type to overshare, so it was even more meaningful. _Thank you. But it’s you, don’t you dare to leave me hanging. Do wait for me._

_Stupid Beka. I love you more._

     He wiped his cheeks with his thumb thinking how he had become such a cry-baby. There was still Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat and Tumblr to catch up on, but he decided he had enough of these emotions and he’d have a lot more time to kill while in Barcelona. Yuri checked his e-mails instead. He still didn’t want to announce that he was retiring, but there would be work e-mails for him to reply to. Some pissed off sponsors, he thought. But no, there were many unread ones, but only from personal contacts. _Viktor refrained from forwarding them to me, I bet._ The name of Otabek’s mother caught his attention. They had been starting to get along better in the past couple of years and they had gotten along for the duration of his and her son’s friendship, but the woman always voiced her - to put it mildly - reservations concerning their romantic relationship. Otabek never let himself be discouraged and always told her that it was only a shame that she felt that way, there was nothing shameful about what they were doing. _“I am perfectly conscious of my actions, ана, and how there is absolutely nothing wrong about them”, “It’s no use, ma, Yura is my future”, “Don’t force me to say it, ана”, “Honestly? Yes, I never loved her.”, “Ma, you can’t want me to be happy and not want me to be with him.”_ were sentences he had heard Otabek say on a phone call, one of those nights Yuri pretended to fall asleep.

 

 

**Dear Yuri,**

**Since my son introduced you to us when you were only sixteen, I thought you looked like an angel, with your pale skin, green eyes and blonde hair. Four years later, I confess my perception of you, not as a person, but of what you represented, clouded my vision. I hope you understand that I was worried for Otabek. He is my son and my soul. Nine years later, you saved his life and the way I looked at you for five years, dear, now seems blasphemous. The first impression should have remained the same. Yuri, you are an angel. I will always be thankful for the day my son brought you into our family.**

**My deepest apologies and gratitude,**

**Aliya Altin.**

 

 

     - Holy shit. – he whispered to the screen, stretching every syllable.

     Yuri could not believe it. He was bed ridden, stitched up, basically dumped, but he thought: _Today is a good day. Maybe all of this was important._

 

_Mrs. Altin,_

_I am not good with words. I am not “nice”. I am probably not a good example for kids nor the best “second impression” and, most of all, I am no angel._

_Don’t get me wrong, ma’am, I thank you for your words. It is good to know I am welcome, especially someone like me, who's never had a big family or a mom to worry about them, like you do for Beka. I can tell you without it even sounding cliché in my ears that knowing it made my day._

_The thing, ma’am, is that, if anything, I am selfish. Beka has been there to pick me up so many times, it's embarrassing. You know better than to call me an angel since you raised one. But, Mrs. Altin, I swear to you, what I like most about myself is how much I love your son. It’s changed me. It’s made me better. I understand perfectly what it’s like to have him as your soul. If you look closely, I was only saving myself._

_\- Yuri_

_(Sent from my iPhone)_

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WANT THEM TO GET BACK TOGETHER SO MUCH  
> BUT I DON'T WANNA RUSH THE STORY OMG WHAT DO I DO
> 
> Oh, hey, you guys!
> 
> I wanted to give you a glimpse of what pre-relationship Otabek and Yuri were like. I feel like thinking they never dated anybody else is kind of unrealistic and, if it were the case, I don't think their relationship would be as meaningful and lasting. Some time down the road the "I never explored" issue would come along and they would, like, break-up, do the exploring, and get back together later, but let's leave that for another fic hahaha Also, do you guys know Beka's mom's name? I tried to look it up, but couldn't find it, so I picked one that sounded nice followed by the last name.
> 
> As always, please, tell me your thoughts! And thank you for the love this fic has been receiving. It makes me so happy I might cry. This fandom is f u c k i n g awesome. 
> 
> I hope to have a new chapter by the end of the week, but uni is so draining, ugh. 
> 
> (Oh, and Yakov had Yuri take out the piercing before the next season. Pity.  
> That reminds me, did you see the picture????? OMG I was looking for some to make this TCFFY Beka/Yuri aesthetic and I nearly fainted when I came across that one.)


	5. Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't forget you
> 
> I know that you want me to want you, I want to
> 
> But I can't forgive you
> 
> So, when this is over, don't blow your composure, baby
> 
> [ **Three Cheers for Five Years - Mayday Parade** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2UImAIHO4SU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, you beautiful angels, you. Long time, no see, eh?
> 
> After the whole Welcome to the Madness BRILLIANCE, I wondered how willing you'd be to read our ship hurting and, quite honestly, how willing I was to write it. I enjoyed the bliss of that glove-biting to the fullest.
> 
> However, I think it's time to get this show back on the road, yeah?  
> To make it up to you for all this time away, here you have the longest chapter I've posted on AO3 since I joined it (which hasn't been long, but still). I hope you enjoy this because the very last chapter of Three Cheers comes right after. Good reading to you! And, please, consider telling me your thoughts when you finish?
> 
>  
> 
> **Oh, this is important: The flashbacks this time are**   **focused on Otabek. I hope they help you** **understand him better.**
> 
>    
> Okay, here's the fourth chapter.

 

* * *

**December**

* * *

 

 

Christmas Eve meant Viktor Nikiforov’s birthday. Every year the silver-haired man told his husband he didn’t want anything special, not a party, not a gift, that he was fine and perfectly happy with the life that they led and what they had built together. And, every year, Yuuri Katsuki pretended to conceit and planned an entire trip to Cartagena or to take his husband to watch musicians that he loved perform live. It was the least he could do considering Viktor always gave the Japanese man something over the top, like his own ballet studio. Yuri thought it was strange how it was already evening and nothing about Viktor’s birthday had come up.

      - Yurio, I need a favor.

      The blonde tilted his head up as a way of telling Yuuri to keep going. He was clearly anxious. The older man held his palms together and bowed.

     - Please, please, _please_ , ask Vitya to go get you something, anything you need, so I can set something up here for him, _please_.

     - Why don’t you ask him to go for something _you_ need?

     - I’m a terrible liar, and it’s his birthday, no way he wouldn’t figure it out.

     Yuri rolled his eyes. “Alright.”

     - Yo, geezer! – he yelled and heard the door from their bedroom open a few seconds later.

     - You know, that may be why Yakov decided to move to some farm. – the Russian said, standing in front of the sofa-bed where the other men were – That’s not nice, Yurio.

     - Whatever. Since you’re not doing anything, could you go get me a box of chocolate miguelitos?

     Yuuri brought a hand to his face and whispered, “Oh, Yurio, he’ll never fall for that…”

     - Beka always buys me them when we’re in Spain.

     An “Oh” came out of the mouths of both men. The blonde’s tone shifted smoothly to a whine. Yuuri lifted his head to catch the younger man’s expression. Yes, now Viktor would run out the door to buy what Yuri had asked, but his green eyes looked down when they realized the sincerity in the voice of the man they belonged to. Yuuri told him to ask for anything that he needed and he needed something that related, even remotely, to Otabek. It was somewhat funny to Yuri how his mind had instantly gone to a Spanish pastry they always bought a box of on the first night and took to the hotel to eat every night. _“Before bed…”_ Yuri thought to himself, “ _After sex…”_ He huffed. Both men were suddenly inches from his face asking an amused and in unison “Whaaaaat?”, like the teenage girls that they were. Yuri only glared at them and snapped his fingers four times. “ _Chop chop”,_ he said.

 _-_ The boy’s pastries, Vityaaa!

\- Oh, right. Husband of mine, will you come with me?”

 _-_ I think I better stay here with Yurio, you know, he seems…

     _I seem what, fatso?!_

 _-_ Yeah, you’re right. I’ll be right back.

_Viktor is so whipped._

As soon as the silver-haired man closed the door from behind him, Yuuri stood up and hurried to the spare room they had, where the bunk-bed was. The blonde tried to twist his body to take a peek at what the other man was doing, but the angle just wasn’t right. He started hearing some kind of screeching. _He is dragging the bed?_ There was some grunting coming from the room as well.

    - Hey, you want some help with…? – _Whatever it is you’re doing._

\- No, no, no, Yurio, - he replied in between breaths – You just stay put.

    _Thanks, I wouldn’t be able to do much anyway._ The pain was a lot more bearable, but he couldn’t strain his body in any way – doctor’s orders. Certainly pushing or pulling a bunk-bed would be the definition of straining one’s body. But what Yuuri pushed out of the room was the crib that used to be in the living room when they arrived. The Russian had forgotten all about it. His eyes widened. But, just as soon as the Japanese man was pleased with the placement of the crib, and before Yuri could come up with the words to ask, or figure out what it was that he even wanted to ask, and what this sharp feeling in his stomach  was, the front door opened again.

    _\- Bonsoir,_ my darlings! – Christophe Giacometti walked in carrying a bottle of champagne as Viktor held the door for him.

     The look on Yuuri’s face as Viktor glared at him while Chris kissed both of his cheeks was priceless. “Look who I found casually wandering outside our building” was what the Russian said. Yuuri really was a terrible liar, he didn’t look surprised in the slightest.

     - Yuri, were you in on this? - Viktor asked.

     - Me?! – he showed the fakest shocked expression he could have mustered, then suddenly switched to one of boredom and shrugged – Well, duh. Why the hell would I want my miguelitos from the likes of you?

     - Aw, Yuri, always so sweet. – Chris was the one who replied while pinching the blonde cheeks while he tried to get away. – Vitya, let’s go get this boy his pastries.

     - I refuse. – stated Viktor, with one hand on each side on his waist. – He called me a "geezer", then toyed with my feelings to be his errand-boy—

     - Errand-geezer. – Yuri corrected.

     - Yurio! – scolded Yuuri – Be nice, it’s his birthday. And now, since we are all here, - he looked at his husband with a hesitant smile – and there are no more surprises, what do we say to Vitya?

     - Happy birthday, Vitya, dear, we love you! – the Swiss said to the birthday man with a bright smile, meaning him and his long-time partner, who couldn’t come because of work commitments. “ _Other than being super gay for me, he is a very straight man.”_

    The Japanese took shy steps towards his husband, his face red all over, playing anxiously with his fingers. When Chris let go of Viktor, the silver-haired man gazed at the Japanese, his expression having completely changed and grinning at the man who couldn’t see it because he was looking down. Viktor could easily calm his husband down, but he often preferred to watch how Yuuri acted. “I find it endearing to this day, how he still gets embarrassed around me.” Viktor had told Yuri this many times.

     - H-happy birthday, Vik—Vitya, - Yuuri’s lips were pressed tightly together – Well, I, um… I’m sorry for—

     The Japanese man was interrupted by his husband pulling him suddenly into a tight hug. “You are so cute! I love you so much! Look at how you’re blushing, oh my, and we see each other naked, Yuuri. Well, way more than that.” They pulled apart and Viktor cupped his husband’s face.

     - Don’t be sorry, my love. – he kissed the other man’s forehead – You always find a way to surprise me.

     The Japanese man smiled and planted a kiss on his husband’s lips. “I love you, too.”. Then, they all turned to Yuri, who was just observing from the sofa-bed.

      - What do we say, Yurio?

     He sighed.

     - Happy birthday. – he said, only loud enough for them to hear. 

     - What do we _sing_ , Yurio? – Viktor teased.

     _They are not gonna let this go, are they?_

     - Fuck you. – was the blonde’s reply and all of them started laughing.

    Christophe made his way to the kitchen to find a bottle opener, but stopped in the middle.

    - Aw, what a cute crib, is this for little Yurio?

    _I am running out of Fuck You’s._

He had forgotten about the crib again. Viktor also seemed confused as he walked towards it. “You said no more surprises, right, Yuuri?”. The Japanese man started fidgeting again. Yuri was also dying of curiosity. The silver-haired man reached for a piece of paper inside. _God fucking damnit, I wanna see it!_ But it still took him too long to get up painlessly and to make that kind of effort would show too much interest. He could only watch as Viktor’s eyes widened while he read and looked at Yuri over the paper.

      - I spoke to Anya yesterday. – the Japanese man told his husband. He took a deep breath. - I updated her on our situation and she said she had been waiting for us to change our minds, - his voice cracked – that she wouldn’t give her baby to anyone else and that… it’s ours, if- if we want it. That’s this month’s sonogram.

      Yuri and Christophe looked at each other with their mouths wide open as Viktor stood with his brows furrowed, his eyes widening as tears started to build up. Yuuri was almost pouting trying to contain his own.

      - Do you… - Viktor started, his voice coming out as a whisper – Yuuri, do you want it?

      - I- I want it if… You want it.

     Then, the other Russian showed the brightest smile Yuri had ever seen on him, he said: “This is the best birthday ever!” and covered his husband with salty, teary kisses. “Flip the page, honey, flip the page”, Yuuri told him.

     - There’s MORE?! – Viktor asked, to which Yuuri just nodded. The older man did as he was told. Another surprised gasp. Another bright smile. He turned to Yuri. – Yurio, you’re getting a sister!

    The blonde was still shocked. They were all jumping on the sofa-bed before he knew it and the happiness surrounding him really was contagious. Yuri found himself laughing with them, shouting, “A niece! _Niece!_ ” It felt nice. It was a good day. And like all of his recent days, it wasn’t easy. It was like the shallowest part of his being was happy for them, genuinely, for the people that he loved like family, who loved him like family and for the new member that would be arriving. For what the future held for them. In this specific spectrum, because, if he dug deeper into his skin there was greed and jealousy. It was always _like_ family, but there was nobody that he knew carrying his blood in their veins. He wanted it so badly it itched at him worse than his Senior Division debut. He wanted to tell Beka that they were a family now. Maybe, for now, even, he just wanted Beka to be there and watch this. For the subject to come up. To tell him that Yuri wanted a child, but only if Otabek was the father. So they could plan this and find a girl who would carry their baby and take her to sonograms and McDonald’s. To feel this happiness and fulfilment of knowing you are not alone in the world and that there is a little person that needs you and gives you purpose. He wanted Beka’s eyes to water just like Viktor’s. And to see that bright smile on his face. _So this is where my competitive side manifests itself now. I’m such a dick._ He felt so guilty for even thinking he wanted this for himself that he didn’t contain the urge to put an arm around Viktor and Yuuri who were laying one on his left and the other on his right and pull them closer, burying their heads on his shoulders. He could hear the murmurs “What’s the matter, Yurio”, “Are you alright?”

     - Congratulations. – he said, from the bottom of his heart, his eyes closed. Yuri grinned. – I’m gonna teach that chick how to play some drums.

    The husbands laughed to the fabric of his sweater. The only people he had ever had this close to him were these dorks, Yakov, Lilia, Mila, his grandpa and Beka. The only people he had ever…

      His eyes started to tear up.

     - I love the shit out of you guys. – he whispered, finally letting the roller coaster of emotions from this evening get to him.

     It meant the exact words. And it also meant “I’m sorry”. _I’m sorry it crossed my mind even for a second to want to be in your place._ He heard the muffled “We love you too, Yurio!” in unison from the other men and they stayed there until the sound of Chris taking a photo from his phone - which he later captioned “Isn’t this the sweetest family sandwich you’ve ever seen?” -  and almost immediately a ring interrupted them. Viktor wiped his tears and went to check who wanted to come up. It was a delivery. He asked to leave it at the door and went to pick it up, after asking if it was another surprise, which Yuuri denied and accompanied him down.

     Chris went to put his suitcase in the spare room and take a shower. Viktor and Yuuri got back with two white boxes tied with an orange silk ribbon Yuri was very familiar with. _Did Viktor have it delivered? Oh, no, he asked if it was a surprise, he didn’t know._ Now, they did everything close to Yuri so he wouldn’t feel bad for not being able to move freely, so they sat the boxes on the sofa-bed and opened the top one. They recognized it, it was called Tarta de Santiago, an almond cake, with strawberry salsa and “Happy Birthday” written in cut out strawberries. There was no note saying who sent it. They opened the second one.

       - I have really lowered my standards. – Yuri said and the other men tilted their heads to the side, confused. The blonde huffed and took the box to place it on his lap.

       - What? What are those? – Yuuri asked.

       Yuri took a bite. – _Miguelitos. –_ he replied – From Beka _._   

 

 

* * *

**3 Years Ago**

* * *

 

 

_Otabek had spent eleven hours on this flight. He had hopped on it gladly when it meant avoiding the crowds in the airport, but his mood got increasingly worse as he got sick of the feminine voice on the French learning tape he had been listening to and got a headache from too much time with his headphones on – he had worn them as part of the last-minute disguise he’d put together to sneak past potential fans that approached him even more frequently since him and Yuri Plisetsky started dating a couple of years ago. They were usually teenage girls and started their overexcited speeches by congratulating Otabek on recent wins, then switched to complimenting him on his looks – “Oh, my God, you’re even more handsome in person, I can’t even--" –, then on his boyfriend’s looks, telling him how beautiful Yuri and his skating were, but Otabek knew all of that and could complement with various “I see your ‘beautiful’ and raise you (blank)”, but his social anxiety would never allow him such articulation, therefore their monologues lost passion midway, discouraged by the Kazakh’s lack of expression while repeating “thanks”, but the girls always seemed to expect as much. If you think about it, they calmed themselves down for Otabek’s sake, in a way of not making him feel uncomfortable, since his reserved ways were common knowledge amongst figure skating – or figure skaters – enthusiasts._

_Only God knew how much he wanted to see that face. He had started to take a peek through the glass of the Arrival gate without Yuri noticing to always find him tapping his foot, crossing his arms, running his fingers through his blonde hair, biting his bottom lip – which gave the Russian a childish look, a completely different one from when Yuri bit it after they kissed. Otabek treasured that sight. Everytime he came home after traveling without his boyfriend, the Kazakh planned to watch as his Yura waited impatiently for his return, but Otabek wanted to see him, hold him, run to him just as much, so he always gave in. Yuri was like an oasis. He was the feeling of finally laying down on a comfortable bed after eight hours of practice. Home, after an eleven-hour-flight._

_He was not going to find a sweet-water pond in the desert this time, Otabek realized when there was no reply to his text letting Yuri know his plane had landed. Still no word after the “in baggage claim” update. It was so strange. Yuri would always reply to those with a variation of “Hurry up” and some silly insult. Maybe his boyfriend was late. But it had been the Russian who insisted on coming to pick him up. The last text from Yuri had been confirming Otabek’s arrival time._

 

**_You:  Home around 6:45, babe._ **

**_Yura: Not a minute later, got it?_ **

**_You:  If it’s up to me, not a second._ **

**_Yura: Good ;] Ill be there. Have a safe flight._ **

**_Yura:  Lov u_ **

**_You:  Yes, sir._ **

**_You:  Love you more. Can’t wait to see you._ **

 

_Though the glass, instead of the blonde hair, he found red. It was Mila. Otabek furrowed his brows but walked towards her. She waved at him with a half-smile that made the Kazakh realize instantly that something was not right._

_\- Hey. – he greeted, giving the woman a hug – Where’s Yura?_

_Mila swallowed. Otabek’s jaw suddenly stiffened._

_\- Where is he? – he asked again, expressing his urgency._

_\- Beka, he went to Moscow, like, five hours ago. – she sighed._

_Otabek tilted his head to the side, adjusting his backback._

_\- What? Why?_

_He watched the redhead’s expression change. Her lips tightened, then started trembling. She kept looking to the side, clearly containing herself from crying. Otabek’s head started to think of every possible thing that could have gone wrong. His heart started pounding in his chest. He couldn’t let himself start to wonder._

_\- Mila. – Otabek said firmly, his will coming through his tone._

_She sniffed. – Nicolai died, Beka._

_That was probably the most shocked expression Otabek had ever let show. Mila continued to say that Yuri’s grandfather had had a stroke. It was completely unexpected. They were going to stay with him for the Rostelecom Cup in only a couple of days. But, if Otabek was feeling this amount of consternation, the impact this must have had on Yuri made the Kakakh’s heart sink. He hurried to get his cellphone out of his pocket and try calling Yuri._

_\- Please, pick up. Please. – he kept murmuring to himself as he reached voicemail over and over. – Damn it! Who’s with him? – he asked Mila._

_\- He went alone._

_\- No. – he sighed, in disbelief – No, no, no, are you serious?_

_\- He didn’t tell anyone, Beka! Viktor hopped on a plane there the second he found out, he must have arrived already._

_Otabek quickly started taking long steps towards the Aerofloat booth and Mila tried to keep up, but was being left behind, saying “Beka, wait! Slow down”. Otabek ignored her and called Viktor with shaking fingers._

_“I was waiting for your call”_

_\- Is Yura with you? Is he safe?_

_“What? Of course he is safe, but he locked himself inside Nicolai’s house and said he wanted to be alone, that I should work out the hospital papers and the funeral, etecera.”_

_Otabek clicked his tongue and shook his head in frustration._

_\- No! - he said louder than he should - Go to him, stay outside, if he doesn’t answer you, kick the door down, I don’t care. Do not leave him alone, what are you guys thinking?!_

_He knew he was letting his frustrations out on friends who didn’t deserve it, but the thing about Yuri Plisetsky disguising his true feelings with anger was that no one other than Otabek knew how bad he could actually get. Viktor seemed to understand and didn’t even try to explain himself. The Russian said “okay” and Otabek hung up after telling him he would be there as soon as he could._

_\- What the hell, stop for a second, where are you going?! – Mia complained from behind him._

_\- Where do you think I’m going? I’m getting a ticket for the next flight to Moscow._

_\- Calm down, Beka, you spent half a day flying, go get a change of clothes or eat something at least beforehand._

_\- Not a chance._

 

 

* * *

**March**

* * *

 

 

It had been two months since they returned to St. Petersburgh. Yuri felt more comfortable now since their stay in Barcelona from January forward had been the hassle of Viktor and Yuuri flying back and forth – one at a time – to accompany Anya to doctor’s appointments, shop for baby stuff, look for a house, sign adoption papers… He felt like such a nuisance, so it was a relief to get rid of those stitches and come back to his country. Not to his apartment, though. When Otabek texted Yuuri asking when they would go back to Russia so that he could come earlier and get his things out of the apartment, Yuri took the phone out of the Japanese man’s hand and typed “Yuri is staying with us. No need to move anything out.” He felt so desperate at that moment, he swore he was on the cusp of hyperventilating. “ _Don’t you fucking dare, asshole.”_   was what he wanted to tell the man.

        _You can’t leave. Yes, you can. I mean, you could. But, please, don’t._

 Mila told him Otabek had not gone back to their apartment either and was staying with her and her new boyfriend, who was spending his vacation time at her place.

         “He wants to leave your home as it is just as much as you, kitten.”

 Yes, the reassurance was important, but how could he believe it fully? If he wanted to be together, wouldn’t they be? Yuri was never an obstacle, on the contrary. On the other hand, he had decided to heal his body and let the one he loved heal his mind. Mila told him all the time how, if she didn’t know Otabek well, she probably wouldn’t notice how much of a mess he was, since he was so composed, but she told Yuri how the Kazakh was blurting out uncharacteristic truths.

      “He’s been going to sleep without showering when he comes back from gigs. The songs suck his energy dry. I tried to tell him that he was depressed, but he keeps saying he’s always been, that’s why he is a musician.”

       “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

       “He told me he was desperate, Yuri. He aches for you, but his guilt won’t let him even apologize.”

      “Fuck, I don’t need him to apologize.”

      “I know, right? But he says he promised your grandpa to look after you and failed him or whatever. You know how Beka is.”

      “Yeah. He’s got all these principles and shit. Fucking hate it.”

      “Oh, shut up, you’d die for him.”

      “Don’t tell him that, he’d feel too guilty and jump off a bridge or something, the moron.”

    It would still be more than a month until he could take this cast off, but there was no more pain. The scars on his forehead and ribs were still red and looked gory, if Otabek saw them now it would break his heart for sure. They were still sensitive to the touch, too, so he covered them with band-aids just so he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone accidentally touching them and slowing down his healing process. He needed to be, at least, eighty-percent recovered by the end of June. Yuri was following all of his doctors’ orders, he wasn’t straining himself nor doing any of the reckless things he was known for doing only to go against the rules and better judgment. _I need to get my shit together and get out of here._

      Anya, the now sixteen-year-old whose baby girl Viktor and Yuuri would be adopting was eight months along - the counting-by-week was annoying – and she was always in the house, the husbands were always all over her and Yuri was feeling left out, even though they always tried to ask him to join them to simpler outings, like going to the Japanese restaurant they all loved, that he could easily use his crutches to move by himself, Yuri often times refused. As much as he wished he was more together than this, he still felt jealous. It made him sick to his core. He was closing himself off again to disguise it, the men seemed to notice it and it was making him uncomfortable. It was even worse when Yuuri tried to talk to him, to tell him it would happen for him soon. _What the fuck do you know, katsudon?_

Yuri Plisetsky turned twenty-six-years old today. Viktor and Yuuri woke him up with breakfast in bed, an on-screen drawing pad as a gift to entertain him and they actually bought a kid-size set of drums. They said they would put it in a different room where they would keep the baby’s toys. “With blank walls for her to doodle all over”, they had decided. Yuri realized it was some sort of equal-treatment solution. He was older, so he got a pad. She was a baby, so she got the walls. _They really do think I’m like her older brother, huh?_ They had pork-cutlet-bowl pirohzkis for lunch and a gigantic birthday cake for the surprise party that he wasn’t at all surprised by. Yakov even came to the city with Lilia. They were all smiles, gave him presents, told him how well he looked and reminisced on how worried they had been when they heard about the accident. _That goddamn accident that took Beka away from me._ Otabek didn’t come. Yuri was used to having his boyfriend spoil him rotten on every birthday, even when they were still only friends. Being without him felt wrong. Even with all these people here, he felt as if he had sent out invitations to the whole world and nobody had shown up to his party when Otabek didn’t. He felt… Rejected. _Not even a single text._ Mila and her boyfriend were there and stayed until everyone else left.

           It was almost one in the morning in the second of March. The party was over, the husbands, the other couple and Yuri were all hanging in the living room. Viktor and Yuuri were looking for things they needed to baby-proof their new house online. Mila and her boyfriend were sitting on the carpet under the couch where Yuri was.

          - I think now is a good time for my next present. – she said – Hey, would you guys lend me that laptop for a sec?

         She put the laptop on her lap and quickly typed something, before turning it around and putting it on Yuri’s instead. It was a maximized video, but the screen as dark. They were all sitting next to Yuri and urging him to press play. He couldn’t help but hope it was Beka. It was Anton’s pub. Anton was Otabek’s go-to bass player and he had opened this underground, indie pub where Otabek could play his new music and cover his favorite songs to people who really appreciated artistry. Yuri would support him every time, when they were still together. He felt so proud to be the-vocalist’s-boyfriend. Otabek’s eyes were locked on him most of the time when he sang and it made the blonde swoon.

         The red light drew a silhouette he’d recognize in the dark. Beka was standing behind the microphone and holding it closer to his mouth. His head was down, his hair falling over his eyes. _I told him not to wear that black hoodie anymore, that thing is ancient._

         _**“Um,** -_ the Kazakh began, adjusting his electric guitar -  **_I’ve been playing here a while._** – they could hear the cheers from the crowd and Otabek’s shoulders shrinking with embarrassment – **_Heh, thanks. But, um, what I wanna say is, I shouldn’t be here tonight.”_**

 Otabek’s voice was so… soft? And melancholic. It had been so long since Yuri had heard it saying new words, not the old videos he kept replaying. The tug on his heart was tight and cold. For the last three months, when he saw or heard of Otabek, the first thought on his mind was _“Why do you look so sad? Why do you sound so sad?” Baby, why don’t we just go home if it hurts you so much? If it hurts us both this much._ Yuri wanted to hold him. He couldn’t think of a time during their ten years of knowing each other that he’d felt the need to hold Otabek in his arms and tell him everything was okay. He realized that this fact was what was wrong in their relationship. Yuri was always being protected and never the one protecting. This was why Otabek felt like it was his duty. He had been conditioned to. _Fuck, let me do it this time._

 _**“I should be wishing the person I love a happy birthday tonight. I should be giving him a present and telling him how much I treasure the very day that he was born into this world, but what would that be worth, right?** –_ There was the sound of girls’ voices yelling “It’s Yuri” in the crowd. –   _ **‘Course it’s Yuri. You guys know his name, but I wish all of you could get the chance to know his mind and his heart and his soul… If you come to a place like this to watch a concert like this, it just means you would have enough depth to see how iridescent that person is. The music you listened tonight was all about him. Even when I don’t mean to write about him, I end up writing about him, you know?** – _ There was some laughter and “aw”s in the crowd – _**I shouldn’t be here tonight, but what kind of gift do you get a person who’s given you everything? How do you repay the feeling of being loved by such an extraordinary being? Surely, not like that.** -_ he shook his head - _ **Not like that.** ”_

\- Has he… Has he been drinking? – Yuri asked Mila in a weak voice. He was catatonic. Maybe he should be feeling flattered, but he was only worried. It tore him apart how tormented Otabek seemed to be. He had written words of that sense in that fatalistic letter: 

 

     " _My Yura, you were the best thing that's ever happened to me, hurting you was no way to repay for the happiness you have given me."_

 

 - Whiskey and Redbulls. – she replied.

         He wanted to break through the screen and lift that man’s face. Look into his eyes. Tell him that it was the opposite. It was Yuri who had never paid enough attention, who had burdened him and caused all of this mess. He was the reason Otabek’s voice sounded this troubled. The Kazakh took a step back and shook his head so his hair was out of the way of his vision of the crowd. They all started to clap. Otabek took a deep breath and leaned closer to the microphone from where he stood.

**_“This is[The No Seatbelt Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_8_FeMUyQ8)”_ **

 

**So, it's sad this doesn't suit you, now**

**And, me, fresh out of rope...**

**Please, ignore the lisp, I never meant to sound like this.**

**_So take me and break me and make me strong like you._ **

**I'll be forever grateful to this and you.**

**It's only you, beautiful.**

**Or I don't want anyone.**

**_If I can choose, it's only you._ **

**Fix me to a chain around your neck and wear me like a nickel.**

**Even new wine served in old skins cheapens the taste.**

**I shot the pilot, I'm begging you to fly this for me.**

**_I'm here for you to use, broken and bruised._**

**_Do you understand?_ **

**_It's only you, beautiful._ **

**_Or don't want anyone._ **

**If I can choose, it's only you.**

**_But how could I miscalculate?_ **

**Perfect eyes will have perfect aim.**

**If I can choose, it's only you.**

 

       He couldn’t get his eyes off the screen. Otabek’s voice was so raw and truthful, it expressed so much emotion, he could make every song his. And every word was an arrow through Yuri’s heart. _“I’m begging you to fly this for me”._ It was the confirmation for what he had been thinking. It was time for him to take the driver’s seat and decide the destiny of this relationship. And he decided that they would be together for the rest of their days.

       Everyone’s eyes were watering by the end. They were all aware of the situation, of the love the two shared and the trial they were going through. Everyone knew Otabek and how those words must have been suffocating him enough for him to let them out in a room full of people. Viktor, as always, let out a “wow” with a hand on his heart and it brought Yuri out of his trance. All eyes in that living room were on him, he was trying to come up with what to say, but the video continued after the clapping stopped. Whoever was recording walking towards the stage and Beka was sitting with his legs hanging on the edge of it – he used to take pictures with fans after -  and only the voice could be heard. It was Anton, he was the one filming, who said **_“What the hell are you doing here, man?”_**

**_“I’m just about to leave, actually.”_ **

**_“You know what I mean.”_ **

**_“I’m not functioning right.”_ **

**_“No shit, Sherlock, your eyes are all red and you are wearing a ten-year-old hoodie”_ **

       He heard Otabek chuckle. _**“It smells like him”**_.        

       Everyone in the room let out a “Wooo” in unison when they heard it. _Oh my God, I’m blushing. Oh my God. I am so embarrassed._ His face was burning and he was holding in a sigh with all of his might. He kept hearing “Mmmmm” and “Beka and Yura sitting on a tree” coming out of the mouths beside him and Yuri was mortified. He was so incredibly happy to hear Otabek’s voice sounding better at that last part. Better yet, that was a hoodie he had stolen from Beka ten years ago and they started to both wear it occasionally when they moved in together, but Otabek refused to throw it out in recent years. _He went home to pick that thing up. He is so lame._

         - Look at the cute little grin on his face! – Mila said – Aw, he is so in love.

         - Oh, that one is _gone_. – Viktor complemented.

       He looked to one side, to find Mila and her boyfriend staring, and to the other to find the husbands doing the same. He wanted to hide under a rock. He closed the laptop loudly and suddlenly, almost throwing at on Yuuri’s lap.

        - You know what?! – he shouted, adjusting the crutches under his arms – **This is bullshit!** You don’t know what to get me, you stupid Kazakh?! – he looked at the laptop – You wrap a bow around your thick ass skull and show up on my fucking birthday! Asshole! – Yuri started to make his way to his bedroom, making stops to yell some more – And what? The big idea is to kiss my ass in front of a bunch of strangers and that’s it?! **Fuck** **you** , I ain’t no fangirl.

        The people on the couch had their eyes open wide and looked to be trying their hardest to hold in a laugh.

        - Did you hear that?! – he asked them ironically – He says he doesn’t _know_ how to _repay_ me. Here’s a plan, _genius,_ you left me in a three-month-long drought and still counting, so how about you pay me with your body? Huh?! How does that sound?! Jerk.

        - Wooooow. – in unison from the couch.

        - Maybe if you _sang_ him a song… - Viktor teased. He wasn’t going to let this go.

        - Ho, ho, I’ll sing him a song alright – he shouted as he opened his bedroom door. – It’s Mayday Parade’s “When I Get Home, **You’re Dead** ”! – and slammed the door shut.

 

 

* * *

**3 Years Ago**

* * *

 

_It took only an hour and a half to get to Moscow from St. Petersburgh by plane, but those ninety minutes felt longer than the eleven hours he had spent on his last flight, just half an hour before. He never put his headphones on, never opened his laptop, all Otabek could think about was what Yuri must’ve been feeling and thinking. He hated the fact that he wasn’t there when his boyfriend got the news his only family had passed away, but he pictured it; Yuri trying to keep his cool through the shock, getting dressed, leaving the apartment quietly, getting on the plane by himself and only allowing his pain to come through when he arrived at Nicolai’s house. Otabek couldn’t settle on his seat. He wanted to make this plane fly faster, but there was nothing he could do and he felt crippled._

_He told the cab driver to hurry to Yuri’s childhood home. "I’m on my way, baby.", he thought to himself, 'I’ll be anything you need". He just wanted to be there and have Yuri let everything and anything out on him. If he was angry, let him yell, let him break whatever he wanted, as long as Otabek could keep him safe. To be honest, he was barely thinking about Nicolai. His mind would never waver from Yura._

_Viktor was sitting on the porch when Otabek arrived. He said Yuri had replied that he was fine only a few minutes before, but he hadn’t heard anything else. He intended to call the police, but it would be ineffective because it was Yuri’s house and he had every right not to let him in. Otabek thanked him for staying, but told him he could go now, since he had a key._

_\- I know this is hard on you, too. – the Russian told him, putting a hand on his shoulder._

_\- Not nearly as much as it is on him._

_Viktor gave him a sad smile and told Otabek to “take care of their boy”. Of course he would. He had promised Nicolai to look after him many times throughout the years, every time they left Moscow from a visit and when he asked the permission of the elder to date his grandchild. He had said something along the lines of what Viktor had just told him._

_“You’re a good man, Altin. I’m trusting my boy to you. Take good care of him.”_

_“Every day, sir.”_

_He wished his thoughts could reach Nicolai as he opened the door: "This is what you meant when you said you trusted him to me, right? I won’t disappoint you, sir. You can rest easy. I’ll protect your grandson with my life."_

_\- Oh my God. – Otabek murmured as he walked in to step on broken glass and let his backpack slide down his arm._

_There were pillows thrown all around the living room, picture-frames, paintings. Rage always came second with Yuri. The room was chaotic, now. And it made his heart start to beat out of his chest. Yuri wasn’t there._

_\- Yura, it’s me! It’s Beka! – he shouted, making his way to the kitchen, he was so distraught he was starting to get dizzy – Baby, where are you?_

_He opened the door to Yuri’s bedroom, but there was nothing there and it was still spotless, to his bathroom, then rushed to Nicolai’s bedroom and nothing. He was begging the heavens for Yuri not to have done anything rash. He kept calling his name and no one replied, but he heard coughing coming from the bathroom. It was like his head went into emergency mode._

_\- Yuri! – he shouted as he opened the door._

_The smell of alcohol was overwhelming. Yuri was kneeling in front of the toilet, dripping in sweat, coughing and throwing up pure vodka as Beka knelt behind him, quickly holding his hair and rubbing his back. He felt relieved as soon as he saw that he was there and seemed unharmed, but the sight of his boyfriend throwing up after drinking so much his body started to expel it, being covered in sweat even when wearing only a thin tank top and jeans, not even replying when Otabek called his name over and over broke his spirit in ways he would never be able to explain. He pulled the towel from the hanger to wipe Yuri’s mouth and dry his skin. When the blonde turned to him, his eyes were bloodshot and swollen, as well as the rest of his face. Otabek could imagine how long he had been crying to look like this and it was heartbreaking. He looked silently into the eyes of the Kazakh, his breathing quick-paced and uneven. Otabek took the hair out of Yuri’s face and tucked it behind his ears before cupping the younger man’s cheeks._

_\- Tell me, did you take anything? – No answer. He rubbed the apples of the blonde’s cheeks with this thumbs – Please, baby. – he pleaded – Did you?_

_Yuri shook his head slightly. Otabek let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding as he looked down and murmured “Thank God” to himself before looking up again to meet his boyfriend’s eyes. They were kneeling in front of each other now. Yuri sat on his calves. He looked devasted. Otabek did the same, never letting go of his boyfriend’s face._

_\- I’m here. – he told him. – It’s safe._

_It was what Yuri needed to hear to let his guard down. His lips instantaneously started trembling, tears blurring his green eyes. He grabbed Otabek’s wrists._

_\- He’s gone, Beka. – The expression on his face reading as if he had just asked “What do I do now?”_

_\- I am so sorry. – Otabek tried to express all of his truth with those words and pulled Yuri to a hug._

_The blonde started sobbing, hiccupping on his shoulder._

_\- I can’t believe it. – he kept repeating and it stabbed Otabek every time._

_He had a hand on the back of Yuri’s head and an arm around his waist. He held him close and tight, showing him all of his support, telling him that he didn’t need to be strong, Otabek would hold him even if his body fell apart right then and there. He knew Yuri had let go of his defenses when his sobs turned into sorrowful screams. Otabek looked up. He couldn’t cry right now, he had to be Yuri’s strength, but that sound was killing him. He sat on the floor against the wall in the bathroom, with Yuri sinking on top of him, Otabek cradling him like a baby as the blonde buried his face on his neck. His breath was hot. What would Yuri have done if he hadn’t gotten there soon enough?_

_\- Let it out. – he told Yuri, rubbing his cheek against his boyfriend’s head – I’m right here for you. – he kissed the top of the blonde’s head – I’m always here with you._

_Otabek felt Yuri grab his shirt on his back, his nails pressing onto his skin with such strength, it hurt, but he couldn’t care less. Yuri sunk lower, his torso on top of Otabek’s legs, his legs on the floor and his face against the man’s chest._

_\- I wasn’t even here! – he sobbed, the loudness of his voice muffled._

_The Kazakh’s eyes widened. He bent his neck to rest his face on the other man’s, his mouth just on top of Yuri’s red ear._

_\- There was no way you could have known._

_\- He was alone! – Otabek could feel Yuri’s mouth opening and closing, even his teeth. The pain the one he loved was feeling made him want to cry with him right there, but he only pulled Yuri up and adjusted him to sit on his lap, holding Yuri’s knee on his side. The green eyes looking into his were like a forest fire. – I am alone. – he whispered._

_\- You… - he ran his fingers through Yuri’s hair and held his head closer to his. – You will never be alone, you hear me? Your grandpa wouldn’t leave this world if it meant you would be alone. – Otabek bent his head lower to look into the eyes that were now looking down – Hey, - he whispered – you’ll always have me, okay? I love you so much, Yura. We all love you. – His words seemed to make Yuri cry even harder – Your grandpa knew we would never leave you because you are too important to us. What would we do without you, love? Huh? What would I do without you? You’re my entire world, Plisetsky. You’re stuck with me. So, please, don’t drown yourself in vodka, okay? You don’t know how much I need you._

_Those last words must have been the right ones because Yuri’s eyes widened just a little and his lips parted in surprise, he threw his arms around Otabek’s neck and kept repeating “Beka” as he continued to sob. “Yes”, Otabek kissed his boyfriend’s shoulder and replied every time, not even expecting Yuri to say anything else, only to let him know that if he called his name, Otabek would answer. Every time._

 

 

* * *

**June**

* * *

 

 

 **-** Ugh, just before I came here I had the stupidest argument of my life with this dude on Facebook. – Mila told him as she helped him with his stretching exercises for his physiotherapy. – He commented on my engagement announcement, like—

         - That you haven’t known the guy a year and you’re desperate to get married ‘cause you don’t wanna die an old maid and the clock is ticking.

        She showed him a face before dropping his leg on the mattress. Yuri felt so free now that his cast was off. And he was an athlete, so the exercises weren’t tiring at all and he kept doing them at home, well, Yuuri and Viktor’s new house, even when Miya, their two-month-old girl, slept on his arms. The month was coming to an end and his leg was fine. He could walk normally around the house and the four of them had ritualistically thrown the crutches into the river the week before. It was almost time. He still didn’t know how he would do it, though, maybe just show up at Mila’s apartment. He didn’t know what he was going to say. But, even though he missed Otabek so much it made him impatient, he was handling it fine and, according to Mila, the Kazakh was handling it better now as well. Because their relationship had never been crippling. They could walk this Earth on their own, but the world was so much more bearable when they faced it together.

         - No, - she continued, ignoring Yuri’s disinterest – he wrote that I was an attention whore, that I had faked my relationships with girls and – she made air quotes – “turned straight all of a sudden”. Can you believe it?

        The blonde rolled his eyes and waited for her to keep going. She started stretching his leg again.

        - And I had to explain to him the whole concept of bisexuality. It’s not ‘cause I’m with a man now that I stop being bi.

        - I’ll pay you money if that dude doesn’t jerk off to gay porn.

        - Right? At this day and age and people are still repressing themselves and letting it out on others.

        - He sure doesn’t know what he’s missing.

        - You know, there’s a sexual undertone to everything you say lately.

        - No kidding. – he ironized – Seriously, I haven’t had sex in six months, if my dick falls off I’ll have that stupid Kazakh fucking sued.

        - Woah, graphic. But, like, can you even?

        - Mila, I “could even” when my leg was on a goddamn hanger.

        - Well, you _are_ flexible. But, just so you’re cool, he hasn’t either.

        - You’re damn right he hasn’t. He’d have to sue _me_ for cutting _his_ dick off.

      Mila gently let go of his leg and rest it by her side. She laid on her stomach next to Yuri.

      - So, um… - she began – When are you gonna…

     _When are you going to find Beka? When are you going to fix this? When are you going to show him that you are fine? When are you going to tell him everything you should have told him in the five years you were together? When are you going to put you both out of your misery? When are you going to go back to your own home and leave Yuuri and Viktor alone with their new baby? When are you going to get your future back on track?_

He wanted to do all of those things, but he didn’t know. Deep inside, Yuri was afraid nothing he did would be enough to get his boyfriend back. There was comfort in thinking there was still a chance for them. Mila always made sure to reassure him, but those were her words and her take on things, he wouldn’t rely on anything that didn’t come out of Otabek’s mouth and nothing had since his birthday. He would even get concerned Otabek could find someone new. _I mean, he is bi, so there are twice the possibilities, right?_ He was so afraid to be turned down.

       Yuri took a deep breath.

      - I need you to do something for me first. – he got up and brought scissors from the bathroom. – I want bangs.

      - I’m sorry, did you just say “I want to bang?” – she teased, but sat up and tapped on the matress for Yuri to sit in front of her.

       He did. This was Yuri Plisetsky making a decision. He had decided to cut bangs and hide the pale scar on his forehead from Otabek. It was the last step before they could meet.

      - I missed your bangs.

      - What? I never had bangs.

      - Didn’t you? Around your senior debut?

      - Eh? No, it’s just that my hair was like emo bangs all around my head.

      Mila almost chocked and started laughing loudly.

      - Shhhh! – Yuri told her – Miya never sleeps!

      - Oh, my bad. – she adjusted herself in front of him and brought part of his hair forward – Let’s do this. How do you want them?

      - I don’t know? Maybe longer on the sides? I just need it to cover this scar.

      - We’ll do it [Brigitte Bardot](https://br.pinterest.com/pin/472033604676402831/), then.

       Yuri shrugged. He had heard the name, but could hardly picture the mentioned woman’s face, much less her hairstyle. He didn’t care anyway.

      - Does the scar bother you this much? But it’s so clear and smooth, I think it actually suits you.

      - I couldn’t care less, I actually think it’s kinda cool, always wanted to have one of those. But I can’t let Beka see it, at least, not at first, I know it would get to him. – Yuri told her while the redhead brushed the hair, blocking his vision.

       - So you _do_ wanna see him. – she stated with the first sound of the scissors.

       - Well, duh. Just don't know how I’ll go around that yet.

      Mila voiced an “mm”, but was too focused on cutting Yuri’s bangs to keep talking. She waited until she was done and looking incredibly pleased with the results of cutting her own hair for years. As Yuri checked himself in the mirror, she put an arm around his neck.

       - I’ll tell Beka you’re moving back the day after tomorrow.

      Yuri made a face to her reflection and continued fixing his hair, waiting for her to explain herself.

       - Then, he’ll go to pick up his stuff tomorrow and **bam!** \- she suddenly yelled, making Yuri flinch - that’s when you ambush him **.**

 

 

* * *

**3 Years Ago**

* * *

 

 

     Otabek helped Yuri get out of his damp clothes. Nicolai’s bathroom had a seat, like in hotels, and Yuri sat quietly as the Kazakh stood cleansing his skin with the handheld shower head, rinsing and massaging his hair. This was the most vulnerable Yuri had ever let himself be seen. Otabek was thankful he was the one the blonde had chosen to let in. He would do this, gently rub his boyfriend’s skin to try and relax him, for as long as Yuri needed. The sight of the Russian bending his neck back, with his eyes closed, letting Otabek wash him and, mainly, just take care of him was enough to warm his heart after how long it took for Yuri to calm down and stop crying. Otabek put the showerhead back on its place and rubbed Yuri’s cheekbone with his thumb, making the younger man open his eyes.

       - I’m going to go get you a clean towel, okay? – Otabek told him with a soft tone of voice before planting a kiss on his wet forehead and stepping outside of the shower box.

      He was surprised to feel a tug at the back of his shirt and looked at Yuri over his shoulder. Their eyes met for a second and, in that second, his boyfriend looked like a lost child, tagging along with the first stranger who showed them kindness. It was amazing the amount of emotions Yuri hid inside of him and how he could bring them out on Otabek. This, the love that flowed between them at this moment, was the purest, most honest and raw feeling his heart had ever sheltered. Seeing Yuri suddenly let go and hide his arms in the middle of his thighs hesitantly would have been enough for Otabek to never to leave that very spot.

        - Sorry. – the blonde’s weak voice said. “I don’t know what came over me, you can go, now” was what he meant.

       Otabek turned around and offered his boyfriend a hand to help him stand up.

       - Come on. – said the Kazakh – And, just so you know, I’ll stay with for as long as you let me. Actually, on a second thought, - he bent to reach the back of Yuri’s knees with his free arm – Up we go – he said as he lifted his boyfriend to carry him on his arms.

       He was very proud of his upper body strength and Yuri was too tired to even pretend to struggle like he did.

      - You are so lame. – were the first words that came out of Yuri’s mouth and actually sounded like him since Otabek arrived.

     - Yep, that’s me. – he replied, taking Yuri to the bathroom in his bedroom, now.

     After drying his body, Otabek helped the blonde change into the black hoodie Yuri had brought with him, one that used to belong to the Kazakh. It was too baggy on his boyfriend’s arms, but that was the way he liked. Yuri started yawning when they laid on the bed and the blonde rested his head on Otabek’s chest like they did it home.

      - I’m sleepy. – Yuri told him.

      - And a little tipsy. – he complemented with a small chuckle, running his fingers through the blonde hair – Want me to sing to you?

     Yuri nodded “Mm-hm”, but interrupted Otabek when he took the first breath in to start a lullaby.

      - Beka? – he looked up to his boyfriend.

      - Mm?

      - Thanks. – Yuri whispered, stretching his neck to plant a kiss on Otabek’s cheek and snuggling closer to him, intertwining their legs.

     The Kazakh felt embarrassed for being embarrassed. These small sweet gestures Yuri occasionally offered him always took Otabek by surprise.

      - What for?

     - Everything. – Yuri tried to say as he yawned. – This may be the worst... day… of my life… - His voice was losing volume and his words were too spaced out. He was falling asleep. – But I know I’m a very… lucky… man.

      Otabek could hear himself gasp involuntarily. He was so touched by those words. Even on a day like this, he had found his oasis. Looking at the door he had left open out of habit because Nicolai would never allow them to close it, he whispered to the Russian sleeping on his chest: “You don’t deserve this. Not you. I will never let you hurt like this again.”  

 

 

 

 

* * *

**COMING UP ON THE LAST CHAPTER OF THREE CHEERS, "ANEW"**

* * *

 

 

 

**JULY**

"Nice little stunt you pulled on me,"

Yuri said from where he was standing and saw Otabek’s back flinch to the sound of his voice.

" _Houdini"_

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sheesh, this took forever to edit. AO3 kept lagging on me.
> 
> I just wanna say how much I love this vision of the characters and how grateful I am to all of you who kept up with this story until now. I am more than happy to finally write them reuniting. Thank you so very much for your kudos and comments, I can't begin to explain to you how good it feels to know that there are other people out there who can understand and feel what you want to express. And I have found the nicest people in this very comment section, so, if you liked this, let me know! I will treasure every word from the readers of this fic while it's still ongoing.
> 
>  
> 
> I have also started drawing/coloring so there will be a couple of pieces of fanart inspired by this fic!
> 
> And have another story on the way after this one, Singer!Otabek AU!
> 
>  
> 
> Oh, I made a post on Tumblr calling Beka otabeast and it sort of went around, so if you find a fic referring to him as that, for all things holy, send me a link!
> 
> You can find me on my anime/manga/mostly shounen-ai [Tumblr](https://myteru.tumblr.com/).
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _I'll see you guys soon with the last of these angels. <3_


	6. (First Half) Anew.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought with a month of apart
> 
> Together would find us an opening
> 
> And moonlight would provide the spark
> 
> And that I would stumble across your key
> 
> _Or break down the door to your heart_
> 
> Forever could see us, not you and me
> 
> And you'd help me out of the dark
> 
> And I'd give my heart as an offering
> 
> [ **Three Cheers for Five Years - Mayday Parade** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2UImAIHO4SU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [UPDATE: OH MY GOD, I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE PROLOGUE!!! I SWEAR, THE "EDIT CHAPTER" BUTTON IS TOO CLOSE TO THE "DELETE CHAPTER" ONE!!! IM DYING BECAUSE I LOST YOUR COMMENTS, MY HEART'S BROKEN. Also, if you started reading after 06/10 and it was a little confusing, I am so sorry! I had written it very quickly straight to AO3 and didn't have it saved anywhere. Livin' and learnin', I guess]
> 
> Wow, I can't believe it. It's midnight in Brazil, which means it's been a month since I posted the little prologue that started this story.
> 
> There was so much I wanted to squeeze into this last chapter, because I have gotten so attached to them, that, even after I cut all the flashbacks out, it was still too long. Since it's a pain to edit 10.000 words - let alone 15/20 thousand -, I decided to split this chapter in two, but don't you worry, nothing bad is going to happen in the second half, okay?
> 
> Our time has come, people!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH for coming all this way with me. It's been a very emotional, but really, really fulfilling ride and I could not be more grateful to each and every one of you. Your comments have made me even happier to be a part of this fandom. You are the loveliest, sweetest, kindest people. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for taking the time to tell me your thoughts and for leaving your kudos. It means the world to me.
> 
> Well, let's not waste any more time. Good reading to you! <3

 

* * *

 

 

         Yuri had his tiger keychain between his index and middle fingers, flipping it anxiously on top of one, then the other, while holding the keys with his thumb to keep them from tinkling. It was the first time in seven months that he had gone up those stairs to the fourth floor. It always smelled like chamomile tea around one in the afternoon, when Mrs. Norin took hers after lunch. She had the habit of leaving her door half-open. Yuri always pointed out how annoying it was, how it made him feel like they were living in her backyard. He wasn’t bothered by it now, although he was being careful not to make any noise and have her notice his presence. The questioning would start. For that same reason, he left the Katsuki-Nikiforov’s household without a word when Viktor and Yuuri were too focused on getting Miya to sleep. For that same reason, he had gone down these very stairs even before sun went up without making a sound when the call letting him know of his grandfather’s passing came through. In both occasions, as heart-wrenching and, in today’s case, nerve-wrecking as they were, there were still things he had to do normally, analytically, systematically before letting his destination get to his head. Three years ago, there was a plane ticket to buy, a note to leave for Beka for when he arrived, a flight to get on and get through. Breaking down would have to wait. Today, he couldn’t let his nerves make him stumble on his words. There were things that he absolutely had to say and do it firmly and patiently. When his grandpa died, he opened that door to his childhood home to encounter an irreversible situation. A house with no one home. But, this time, he could hear it. The sound of his boyfriend’s keyboard floating out of the gap at the door Otabek hadn’t closed all the way. _How many times do I have to tell you to shut the damn door?_ He realized soon after that the Kazakh didn’t think he was coming. He could leave the door open and officially live in Mrs. Norin’s guesthouse, now. He could go back to taking his coffee black and bitter. Yuri huffed at the thought, noticing he had stopped on the top of stairs. He took the three small, slow steps that he needed to stand in front of apartment 402.

           _How did you get used to me not coming home so much that you didn’t even bother to lock the door?_

_Or how little did you plan to stay?_

_You’re really adamant on avoiding me, huh?_

He made his right hand into a fist and squeezed the keys so tightly that the edges pressed hard onto his skin. Yuri continued to listen to the notes Otabek was playing as he looked down. He was afraid. He had told himself over and over to stay confident, to fake confident, because he needed to be the bigger person for once. He needed to get himself together so that Otabek saw in him a surface strong enough to lean on. If emotions like fear or insecurity got the best of him, it would be it. He did it all the time, have fits of rage when things didn’t go the way that he wanted and that was no way to fix this. The blonde took a deep breath and switched the foot sustaining most of his weight to the left. He had been working on getting that leg to function again for months, for him, obviously, but the urgency on making the recovery quicker was for this. _Damn it, it still bothers me._ They had reconstructed his ACL, but the feeling was strange, as if something had been left misplaced. It wasn’t painful, per se, but it was annoying. However, if he could stand on that leg, maybe there would nothing to worry about. Maybe it could be like nothing had ever happened. _You’re stalling,_ he told himself. Yuri switched the hand holding the keys, stood up straight, shook his head to get the bangs out of his eyes– it would take some getting used to -, licked his lips and intended to storm in and wing it, get himself into a situation that would make him pathetic to run away from and see how things would go from there. _God, my heart is beating out of my chest._

          How many times had he done this over the years? Come home. When did it become so difficult? _When did it stop being safe?_ This was their apartment, the one inside was the person that he loved the most in the world, one he had been missing for months and the idea of stepping inside was making it hard to breathe. _I want to see him._ But this taking a turn for the worst and making their relationship, that had been somewhat left up in the air, come crashing down for good made him sick to his stomach. _I am doing it again. He has given me no good reason to hesitate and I am standing in our doorstep like a loser. This is my goddamn home, too, damnit._

_I want to come home._

_I wanna listen to him play. I want to make him feel safe. Just this once, when it’s important, I have to stop being so selfish, but, God, am I pissed. I wanna kick this fucking door open._ Then, the notes changed and he recognized them. He couldn't tell which from which, but the repetition was like [“Run”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gLMyBBZmL2M) and it was calming and alluring. Melancholic. He opened the door just enough not to make it screech and squeezed inside. The apartment itself was a blur, the red of the brick wall in the living room, the brightness coming from the balcony, the black spots were the couch, the TV, their posters, Otabek’s spot, his swivel chair and the back of his t-shirt, his messy hair. The tan skin of his nape was in perfect clarity. Yuri wasn’t ready for the emotion that came over him. It was a mixture of so many different feelings, he didn’t know how it could feel so good. Being in the same room as Otabek was such a high. It was almost surreal. It was also the happiest he had felt since their five-year anniversary in Barcelona.

           Otabek was murmuring the words to the song just like when he was writing, only to have himself listen. Like when he was singing Yuri to sleep, soft and breathy like a lullaby as he languidly pushed the keys with a single finger. He had always loved playing music, never missed an opportunity to sing the lyrics as they were meant to be sung live, his hands assuming the perfect form on the keyboard as they would on the piano he had in the studio. This was nothing like it. Yes, it was bare and sincere, but more like the last words a man would say to his lover with his dying breath.

 

**I'll sing it one last time for you**

**Then, we really have to go**

**You've been the only thing that's right**

**In all I've done**

 

**And I can barely look at you**

 

        Otabek stopped and sighed heavily. Yuri got the urge to step forward, but he didn’t know what to do, what to say, how to make Beka understand that this, everything that these past few months had been and caused them, never had to have happened. But he knew that finding Otabek’s guilt foolish and unprecedented didn’t make it any less real. Running to him and saying “You have done nothing wrong” wouldn’t make the statement an absolute truth that the Kazakh would accept. However, that was all that came to his mind. _I’d be dismissing his feelings._ The song continued from where it had stopped.

 

**But every single time I do**

**I know we'll make it anywhere**

**Away from here**

 

       Yuri realized he was biting the inside of his lip, leaning on his side against the wall, his arms crossed. He watched Otabek run a hand through his hair and straighten his posture. It was time for the chorus.

 

**Light up, light up**

**As if you have a choice**

**Even if you cannot hear my voice**

**I'll be right beside you, dear**

 

**Louder, louder**

**And we'll run for our lives**

**I can hardly speak, I understand**

**Why you can't raise your voice to say**

 

       Just for a second the blonde wondered if Otabek had noticed his presence. If the words were meant to reach him, words he interpreted as “ _It’s okay if you can’t figure out how to save us.”, “I can’t do it, I don’t expect you to.”, “I understand why, even having made it all the way here, you can’t find it in you to come closer.”._ It wasn’t the reality, though. Otabek continued to play, oblivious of the green eyes watching him, but not in the same way. It was clear that the following verse weighed on him heavier than the previous ones. It took Yuri back to waking up in a Spanish hospital, his hand washed by his boyfriend’s tears as he weakly sang him “Unborn”. It was almost the same pained voice that reached his ears almost seven months later.

 

**To think I might not see those eyes**

**Makes it so hard not to cry**

**And, as we say our long goodbye,…**

 

        Yuri heard him sniff and could make out the motion of Beka’s hand wiping a tear from his left eye as his right one kept pushing the same recurring key.

 

**I nearly do.**

 

        He heard multiple keys being pushed at the same time as Otabek rested his elbows on the keyboard and supported his head with a hand over each eye. The Kazakh had always been so subtle when showing emotion, but he’d always made his feelings known by silent, quiet, _refined_ actions like this. He never had to break anything to express that he was broken. It was like a competition again. Yuri, in his head, trying to motivate himself, to reassure himself that he could do this. If he gave it a hundred and ten percent, it was a guaranteed win. Maybe not today. Maybe Beka would still leave. But he’d keep trying because muscle was all that he had ever known and, as such, it needed practice. If he could not manage to fix this today, he was going to fix it tomorrow. It was his resolve. There wasn’t the faintest sound coming from where Otabek was sitting anymore.  And it felt wrong. In this apartment, there was always music and pots clinking, cats meowing, Viktor barging in uninvited. Most importantly, there was always laughter. It was not right that they were both home and not their hands, not their mouths, not their eyes had met. _Ugh, this is so annoying. I’m gonna do it. Is he done? I can’t let the tables turn on me now, if he turns this way. I’m going to fake it good. This is it._

_Here goes nothing._

 - Nice little stunt you pulled on me, -  he watched Otabek’s back flinch at the sound of his voice. – _Houdini_ -, Yuri called the man, with a neutral (despite almost cynical, given the situation) tone.

        Otabek brought his hands down and the chair screeched as he sunk on its back. It was as if a runaway had been found by the police. There was no place for him to run, so he waited. Speechless.

         _I guess that’s better than “What the fuck are you doing here? Hadn’t I dumped your ass already?”._

 _-_ What was the big ideia? – Yuri continued, throwing his keys on the shelf under the TV. All he heard was the sound of the metal hitting the wood, but it was like he could hear his own insecurity – You’d just mope here for a hot minute, pack your bags and disappear again with your tail between your legs and a one-way ticket to Platonic Town like a lovesick teenager?

       His back hid itself behind the back of the chair. Otabek had put his elbows on his thighs with a frustrated sigh. _I swore to myself I wouldn’t be aggressive, but I can’t deal with this. Seven months apart, five years of relationship, ten years of knowing each other and this is what I get? You won’t even look at me?_

_I waited all this time for silence?_

_I think the fuck not._

\- Will paper and pen give you the guts to speak your mind? – challenged Yuri, his tone turning harsh – Oh, right, I forgot you “can’t even look at” me because you went on a guilt trip all by your lonesome and left me for fucking dead.

       That was not it. He wasn’t thinking that at all, but the words came out like they always did. Yuri only heard himself after saying them and regretted right then and there, but that was the only way he knew how to function. Showing  the complete opposite of begging Otabek to love him again because he could never find a middle ground for anything. It was always extremes, always the damned extremes, painting over light grey with black because it was more guaranteed to hide his true feelings than simply a darker shade. He was frustrated and afraid, feeling rejected and ignored, so he acted wrathful. _I finally found you and you turn your back on me._

 _-_ I am sick and tired of your one-way bullshit! If you want this over, man the fuck up and spit it out! - he fastened his steps towards the Kazakh – God damn it, Otabek, - he shouted, as he reached the chair to turn it hastily his way – **face me!**

        It swirled so fast. Yuri stopped it by holding it on both sides, and he thanked God for it because his knees weakened when Otabek’s face appeared so close to his, his wide brown eyes staring straight at his. His breath smelled like over-sweetened coffee. _You were hanging on to anything you could, weren’t you?_ Even before all this mess, he would never hesitate before kissing his boyfriend when their lips ended up inches away from each other like this. Neither would the Kazakh, and Yuri felt it - his desire, it was clear by the way Otabek's lips were parted, by how he would look at the blonde’s, then quickly direct to his gaze back to Yuri’s green eyes. They were breathing into each other’s mouths, or the air coming out of them met a wall halfway and returned.

       - _Caught you_. – he whispered.

       Otabek looked hand-painted, with his bottom-lash line reddened from rubbing his eyes dry, those expressive eyes telling Yuri that he hadn’t imagine in a million years that they would meet today, but with an undeniable tint of admiration in his gaze, as if Yuri was something angelic. Today, he hated it. This devotion was what had torn them apart. He wondered if they were in too deep, if there was no helping it. They had been holding onto each other like a lifeline for ten years. _I don’t want him to love me any less. Hell, I just want him to love himself more. Like I love him._ Otabek’s jaw stiffened when Yuri moved the hair falling on the Kazakh’s forehead back, feeling the warmth of his tan skin under his pale fingertips. He let his hand slide slowly and gently down, cupping the older man’s cheek, lingering on every inch of his skin. _I missed you._ However, Otabek’s eyes narrowed and he looked _like that_ again. Like he did that day, in the hospital, when he grabbed Yuri’s hand with both of his and rested his head, looking at Yuri exactly like this, and said: “I love you so much, I could die right now”. _I can finally ask._

 _-_ Why do you look so sad? – Otabek swallowed and averted his eyes, the only moving part on his frozen body. Yuri could feel his emotions reaching the surface. It still wasn’t time, but he caressed the man’s cheek with his thumb in response to the silence. – Why can’t we talk anymore? – he lamented, defeated because nothing he was saying was coming out more than a whisper.

      That realization broke Beka’s heart just as it had his own, Yuri noticed, when the brown eyes closed for a few a seconds in front of him, Otabek tucking his lips between his teeth. The blonde could also catch the moment when the Kazakh had found an impulse amidst his thoughts to turn his head away from Yuri and get up so decisively, The Russian couldn’t find it in him to block his way. Therefore, Yuri took the other man’s seat as he turned his back to it, taking a couple of steps away. The blonde couldn’t help but brace himself for being rejected. _If not today, tomorrow. If not today, tomorrow. If not today, tomorrow,_ he kept telling himself.

       - What do you want me to say? – were the first words that came out of Otabek’s mouths as he looked up, his back still turned to Yuri. _Is it weird to feel relieved to hear a person’s voice even if they are going to use it to push you away? –_ One second, I am literally weeping because I thought this was it and, the next, you are cornering me. You know I can’t get my brain to work like this. – _I really fucked this up, didn’t I?_ Otabek turned to find Yuri shrinking on the chair. The Kazakh had both hands in the back pockets of his jeans. – So what do you want me to say?

        _So much for not letting the tables turn._ They only looked at each other for a moment, one when it felt like they were each in a corner of world. But Yuri had come here with a resolve, so he adjusted himself to sit as comfortably – which means, as sloppy – as he could, to release his body of any tension, ending up with one leg stretched out and his elbows on the arms of the chair. _I need to get him to relax. How I am going to do that with my joints all stiff from nerves, I don’t know._

       - How’s Vinnie? – the blonde asked, meaning their black cat.

      He could see the little glimpse of confusion in the man’s eyes. _He was expecting me to yell at him or something. Fuck, how did I let things become like this?_ Otabek tried to follow the Russian’s lead and be casual, but his lips were still tense, Yuri noticed.

      - He’s great, um… Thanks for letting him stay with me.

      - Letting you? He’s yours.

      - But I know you got attached. You must miss him.

      - Don’t you miss Cherry and Öyster?

      - ‘Course. But I know you love them, so I wouldn’t mind giving even Vinnie to you.

      Yuri felt the wrinkles forming between his eyebrows. He knew that he was making a face, he was getting irritated again. _What the hell are you talking about? He’s your cat, he follows you everywhere, you brought him home, you named him after your favorite guitarist, he’s like the animal version of you, probably one of the few friends that you have and you are talking about giving him up just like that? Just because? The one he wants to be with is you! Don’t you care about what he wants?! Is it this easy for you to just give him up?_ The blonde licked his lips, bending his back over his thighs and, with his elbows on his knees, and looking up at the man who stood in front of him with metallic green eyes, Otabek stared back at him, unfazed. This was what he had been expecting from Yuri.

 _-_ That’s _rich,_ coming from you. – Yuri’s tone was acid. – Last time I checked, it meant jack squat to you if I got to keep the things I loved or not.

       The blonde could hear the sound of the air coming out of his nose. He hated that he was losing control so early into the game. It was so frustrating, the simple fact that this conversation had to happen. Otabek nodded, as if he was taking in what he had just heard. Yuri hesitated to rotate the chair to follow the steps the man took to his left. The Russian could see from the corner of his eye that he was leaning against the wall, between the TV and the balcony, right beside him, but it was taking everything in him to control an aggressiveness that he knew was unprecedented. _What am I doing? I didn’t come here to hurt him. I tried to protect him all this time and the first thing I do is say a bunch of crap that I don’t mean because I felt like the cat that he wanted to give up. Pathetic._

\- I know you’re just saying that. – Yuri looked up when he heard the words coming from the Kazakh’s mouth. – I know that you regretted it as soon as you said it.

        The blonde stared at his hands again. He felt like crying. It was so familiar. He’d never had to worry about Otabek misunderstanding him. That was also a problem. He shouldn’t be able to get away with things like this with nothing but an understanding tone. Yuri felt like a spoiled child. _If you keep enabling me, I’ll never learn. I will keep mistreating you._

\- Not that I didn’t deserve it. – Otabek continued, making Yuri raise his head abruptly, taken off guard by the masochistic tone in the Kazakh’s voice – Me wanting you to keep the things that you loved didn’t stop me from taking them away from you.

       It was clear in older man’s expression, when Yuri turned his head to his left, that Otabek had already accepted those words as fact. He wasn’t trying to have Yuri deny them, as a matter of fact, it sounded like he was trying to convince the blonde of them. 

       Yuri huffed, in disbelief: - You mean skating… - he shook his head slightly, it sounded so unreasonable to him, but this was finally the topic he had come here to discuss. He turned the chair with his foot towards the man who had his arms crossed – Because we were both in an accident you think you took skating away from me.

      - I don’t expect you to understand.

      - Don’t patronize me.  – the blonde said through gritted teeth as he got up to stand in front of the Kazakh – The most fucked up part about all of this is that I understand it completely. I hate it, Otabek. I hate that it makes sense that things are so complicated, but I have been with you longer than with anybody else and the wonder of your psyche rubbed off on me. Because I get it, I tried to respect your time and your space, but I think it’s about damn time I get a say in this.

      Again, they were so close. Too close. Yuri hadn’t even noticed when he used his right arm and fist to block Otabek’s way. This silence, this tension, their breathing, the sad, yet defiant look in the brown eyes staring back at his as the man let his arms fall at his sides and took a half step forward, making Yuri freeze where he was standing, making the side of their noses touch as they alternated yearning gazes in the direction of each other’s lips. It was so natural for their bodies to gravitate towards each other. Yuri wanted this. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to be kissed. But he saw Otabek swallow and close his eyes with a frown again, taking back control.

      - You don’t. – the Kazakh murmured into the blonde’s lips.

        Otabek gently moved Yuri’s arm out of his way and reached for his black leather jacket on the couch as the Russian tried to gather his thoughts. He had forgotten what he’d said already, so he tried to make sense of the man’s words by repeating his in his mind. _“But I think it’s about damn time I get a say in this.”, “You don’t.”_ Yuri felt his heart sink. This looked like the rejection he had been preparing for. The Russian used a hand to support his weight on the desk where Otabek was previously playing his keyboard. He didn’t turn to watch the man leaving, but he heard his keys tinkling.

       - Never took you for a coward, Altin. – he let out on a whim.

      Otabek huffed. – Me neither. But I don’t trust myself if I stay.

       - Because you might listen to reason?

       - **Because I might listen to you!** – Yuri turned to him, finding Otabek finally distraught. _He broke his front when he turned away._ – And I _know_ you! You’d never tell me what’s best for you, you’d try to get me off the hook like you always do!

       _He is being loud. This is good. I can’t help but feel a little taken back, but he deserves to vent. I’ll open all the doors for him._

\- What do you want from me?!

       - Tell me I fucked up, Yuri!

       - We fucked up!

       - No! Stop it! Stop trying to spare me from everything, stop keeping things to yourself, stop bearing your pain on your own!

       - **But I am fine! Look at me!**

 The brown eyes narrowed and Otabek nodded his head slightly.  He let out an almost silent and sarcastic “Oh, yeah?” and took slow steps towards Yuri, who sat lightly on the edge of the desk, expectantly. When the Kazakh’s fingers touched his skin, he forgot how to breathe. After tucking lose strands from the blonde’s half pony-tail behind his ear, the older man let his thumb slide gently and slowly down, making the curve of Yuri’s flushed earlobe.

        - Your hair is different.

       Yuri instantly put his head down. _Fuck. Of course he’d notice, it’s Beka, for crying out loud._

_This ruins all my chances, right?_

      He wanted to cry. Otabek went on to move the blonde’s newly cut bangs away from his forehead. The Russian couldn’t see it, but he felt Otabek run the tip of his thumb gently just a litte past where his right eyebrow started and an inch above it, going horizontally until the side curve of his forehead, without ever touching it, only underlining it. There was nowhere to run, now, so Yuri allowed him. The blonde’s green eyes could only see the man’s sharp jawline and his neck, a golden chain lurking from his shirt. He wouldn’t dare to look up, which allowed him to catch the exact moment when a tear dropped from Otabek’s jaw. _This needs to stop. I can’t keep watching this._

      - That’s not important. – Yuri told him, without moving.

      - See?

      _Now you’re cornering me, asshole!_ The blonde suddenly felt impatient and pushed Otabek away.

      - What the hell does cutting my hair prove?!

      - You were trying to hide things from me.

      - News flash, I have a scar! Big fucking deal! It just means I’ve healed, Otabek. I’m _fine_!

      - **I don’t believe you! –** the Kazakh seemed surprised by his own loudness. Yuri’s green eyes widened. _I am taking this too personally. This is not about me._ Otabek looked up, breathing heavily. He let out a small chuckle. – Do you remember a note you left for me when your grandpa died? When you took off to Moscow all by yourself? – his brown eyes started to water – It read: “Sorry I couldn’t make it to the airport. Fridge is stocked.” and, then, I remember it perfectly, in the corner, in tiny letters in parenthesis… - the Kazakh stopped to wipe the tears from his eyes with his jacket – you wrote “Welcome home”.

       The blonde opened his mouth, but nothing came out. _I’m so sorry. I was dealing the only way I knew how. I got used to it._

       - Good thing I only saw it when we came back home _together_ , - he continued, his breathing uneven through the words, confused if he wanted to scream or cry -  because your intention was to have me home eating **borsch while you drank yourself numb in another city!**

      Otabek proceeded to let himself fall on the couch, resting his head on the back of it with an arm over his eyes. He, then, brought it to his forehead, to allow him to look at Yuri, who stood in the same spot, with his hands in the pockets of his red bomber jacket.

       - You’re doing it right now. – the Kazakh said. Yuri glanced at him and waited. – When you sprained your ankle, you kept supporting yourself on your right foot when you did the dishes. No matter how many times I asked you, you always said that it was fine. – a pause – How’s your leg, Yuri?

       The blonde moved to stand in front of where the other man was sitting – You said it yourself, remember? “I’ll be damned if this is enough to break you.”

       - I never doubted for a second that you would get through that. But you are not a machine, Yuri, I know you like to think that you are and that, if you’re in pain, it means you’re somehow defective, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. If you asked me, I’d tell you you’re even stronger now. That was never the point.

      Yuri sighed, walking backwards until he reached the wall. He was losing all hope.

      - I’m at a loss here. – he told the Kazakh, truthfully. – What was the point?

      - I have clearly failed you. – said the man, getting up and slowly walking towards Yuri. – And you don’t care about yourself enough to be angry. Like you didn’t care to tell Viktor your ankle hadn’t healed right. Like you didn’t care enough not to get yourself on the cusp of alcoholic coma.

      Otabek’s expression showed so much hurt. He knew he wasn’t being scolded. That was the person that he loved finally opening up to him. Those topics had come up in conversations before, but Yuri always dismissed them. He had never given enough attention to how much they affected his boyfriend, not even considered the possibility, actually. Otabek had always been so gentle, always tiptoing around subjects that could bother Yuri, always so careful with him. _I should have known._ His heart was breaking and, apparently, it showed.

      - Yura, - Otabek started, cupping the Russian’s pale cheek with one hand. Yuri’s green eyes instantly widened and sparkled. _Fuck, did I miss being called that. –_ I don’t blame you. I need you to understand that. On the contrary, I… - the Kazakh pressed his lips together, smiling with his eyes as he gazed at blonde – I think it’s honorable and it’s one of the reasons why I’ve always admired you. You’re a fighter. However… I feel so damn powerless watching you fight alone. – there was a pause and the man’s tan forehand touched the Russian’s – Yura… - he repeated – I don’t want you to look at me and remember something you lost, then pretend it doesn’t hurt you, so I won’t feel bad. If you don’t rely on me, then what are we doing?

      Yuri cupped the other man’s cheeks to make their eyes meet. – I don’t rely on you? – he murmured – I’ve been relying on you since I was _fifteen_.

      By the way Otabek shook his head with his eyes closed, then sat on the chair in front of Yuri, the blonde knew the words hadn’t reached him. _What do I have to do for you to believe me?_ Yuri crouched down, using the Kazakh’s knees for support.

       - You were my very first friend. – Yuri continued, offering a kind smile – You knew how to deal with me, you were such a fucking ride-or-die, I think I owe the most fun I had in my life to you. – Otabek chuckled. It made Yuri’s heart skip a beat because it was, finally, honest. – When I hated that bitter bean juice you called coffee, but still wanted to look cool and order it when we went out, you started over-sweetening yours so I wouldn’t feel like a loser. – They laughed. It only lasted a second, but it was enough to refresh Yuri’s hope. – You tried your best to keep me motivated, and grounded, and inspired. You brought your entire life to my home country. You are so much of a weirdo that it makes me feel less weird. You are the one person in the world who really knows me.  You always said that I could be whoever I wanted to, as long as I didn’t hurt anybody.

       That last sentence took the light out of Otabek’s eyes. His eyebrows lifted slightly, only as a way to tell Yuri “ _Exactly. As long as you don’t hurt anybody. And I hurt you.”_ Yuri realized he had chosen the wrong time to say it, so he took a deep breath and knelt, his hands instantly tugging on the thighs of his jeans. His blood was starting to boil.

       - Stop looking at me like I’m some broken toy! – he shouted – I am a goddamn athlete, Otabek, and the furthest thing from a weakling, if you haven’t realized it by now, maybe it’s time to get your head out of your ass!

       - You are! Damn right you are! You’re _a goddamn athlete_. You should be out there, skating, it’s who you are!

       - Don’t belittle me! I’m not a teenager anymore! I had to retire eventually, anyway!

       - On your terms, Yuri! – the Kazakh suddenly got up – You deserved to choose when to end your career. Nobody had the right to take it away from you!

       - That’s bullshit! Stop trying to make this about me! You were the one who chose to think I wouldn’t be able to handle a stupid injury!

       - You’re sugar-coating it again!

       - Fine! If you want the graphics so much, I’ll give them you! No, Otabek, it ain’t _comfy_ to have pins holding your bones together! Do you know how much it hurts to cry so hard your stitches pop open?! Fuck, landing jumps with a chipped ankle isn’t a motherfucking walk in the park, okay?! Yes, when grandpa died, I felt like a godforsaken orphan, but I wasn’t trying to spare you from anything! I did it for me. Because I wanted to be able to keep my cool. Because I didn’t want to break down. Because I am selfish. – Yuri saw Otabek’s breathing speeding up as he tried to maintain his composure, but his eyes were turning red. – I need you to get me down that fucking pedestal and see me for who I am!

       _What do I have to do to make you understand?_

 _-_ Fuck… - the Kazakh murmured to himself. _I just made him feel guiltier. Shit._  – Why aren’t you angry…? Why can’t you be angry?

      It sounded more like he was pleading Yuri to be. He understood it. The blonde nodded, gathering his thoughts and trying to accept what he was about to do. _That wall that your conscience built between us? I’ll break it._ With a precise movement, he threw the punch. It was so fast, but, even so, halfway, Yuri still found himself weakening the force directed to his fist. The impact only caused a small cut to Otabek’s bottom lip.

       _He didn’t even flinch. Damn, that was hot._

 - Was that what you wanted? Because I felt like shit doing it.

      Otabek wiped the blood from his lip with a hand. He looked like nothing had happened.

      - You had every right to.

      The blond let out a stretched out groan. He was feeling smothered, so he took off his jacket and untied his hair. He tried pacing from one side of the couch to the other. He saw Otabek taking off his jacket as well.

      - You have a nasty sense of justice. – he spat – All of this is because you put yourself out of situations and look at them as an unaffected judge. It’s so fucking annoying having to tell you what you want.

      - It’s hard to guess what you want, Yura.

      - I wanted our bed! – he screamed, making Otabek’s mouth open slightly, surprised by the sudden confession. – As selfish as it is, I wanted you to stay with me until I fell asleep, I wanted to wake up and have coffee-that-tastes-like-tea. I didn’t want to separate our cats, I didn’t want to live in other people’s new homes, with their newborn baby, feeling the worst goddamn FOMO ever! – he started walking towards the Kazakh – If it’s hard to guess, then don’t! Because you come up with things like this, like if you left me, I’d somehow forget everything, as if I hadn’t been in love with you since I was fifteen! As if I didn’t think we would be together until we were old and boring and only fucked on weekends!

       - Yura… - he whispered in awe. It was the first time Yuri spoke about the future. – I didn’t—

       - No, you shut your trap and listen because I am so damn over this! Don’t tell me that you left because you didn’t deserve me or because I was too good for you and all that crap, because I ain’t buying it! You did it for you! Because you are the epitome of the righteous man and you think you have to align the universe or whatever. Deep inside you know that what you have is some sort of survivor’s guilt. Well, _bully for you_ , I’d do it again.

       - Yura, calm down. – Only then Yuri noticed he was barely breathing between the words. His face was burning; his heart was racing. He noticed Otabek’s breathing was uneven as well. The Kazakh patted the man’s head. – I am listening, okay? Calm down.

       - Can you see it now? – the blonde asked, the Kazakh’s eyes narrowed in question – You were being selfish all this time. – Otabek swallowed, taking his hand away from Yuri’s hair. The blonde huffed, placing his on the side of the other man’s neck. – But that’s _okay_. It was about damn time.

        - What are you saying…?

        Yuri offered him a smile. – I am telling you that you have the right to heal. It took me way too long to figure that out, but, once I did, I wanted to honor it. – Yuri let his hand move to Otabek’s nape as he stepped forward. – That time, on that bike, was the only moment I spared you from anything on purpose and you can’t hold it against me, Beka, because I’ve won a whole bunch of gold medals, but that was the proudest moment of my life. I am not letting you take it away from me. 

        The Kazakh’s eyes suddenly watered as he showed a weak but joyful smile.

        - What? – Yuri asked, curiously.

        - You called me “Beka”. – his smile widened.

        The blonde moved his hand up to reach the top of Otabek’s head and grab onto his hair.

        - What else can I say to get you to smile again?

        The man let out a sigh. – Yura, you don’t understand. The guilt is eating me alive.

        _We’ve been over this, baby._ But Yuri’s focus turned to the blood on the Kazakh’s lip. Otabek looked down, his hair falling over his forehead again. The blonde guided his hand to touch it. He saw the other man flinch. _How did things get to the point where you don’t flinch if I hit you but you do if I touch you?_ But he continued, cupping Otabek’s chin to have him look up. Yuri’s thumb ran across the Kazakh’s bottom lip. _I can’t even believe I was the one who did this._

\- I understand. – he said. – I will show you what you asked of me, so you can understand me, too.

       Yuri kissed the other man’s lips with open eyes. He caught the exact moment the pressure made Otabek’s cut sting, for he furrowed his brows, but his hand found Yuri’s cheek and only pulled him closer, kissed him deeper. _Finally,_ the Russian thought as he closed his eyes. He savored every millimeter of those lips and lingered on each movement, tasting the salt of the Kazakh’s blood, the warmth of his tongue and that familiar taste of sweet coffee. He had been waiting so long for this, he never wanted to break apart. But he did, only for a moment.

       - I hit you. Am I no good for you, now? – he didn’t give Otabek the time to answer before pulling him back into a kiss, holding the man’s face with both hands as his pulled Yuri by his waist. – Tell me that I don’t deserve you.

       The blonde moved his hands to the Kazakh’s chest in a way to gently guide him to turn his back to the couch. Otabek complied, his hands moving up Yuri’s waist as they gave in to their hunger. The blonde scratched the man’s chest over his shirt, making Otabek groan, but Yuri pulled away. They were both panting and thirsty for more, but there were more important things at stake.

       - Hate me. – the Russian said.

       The Kazakh’s hands left Yuri’s waist. His brown eyes told Yuri that he had found the concept absurd. _I know, right?_ He reached for Otabek’s forehead, to brush the strands of hair away.

       - You can either understand that I would never, ever hurt you, in any context, other than to make this point. Or focus on the fact that I did it on purpose, that I don’t know how to handle things, that, from the outside looking in, it was uncalled for and you should break up with me out loud, now, not with some Shakespearian letter crap.

      - Yura, I never broke up with you. I know I should have, but I could never bring myself to.

      - So you _wish_ you had broken up with me? Is that what you’re saying? – Yuri asked, clearly ticked off – Hell, that’s even worse!

      Otabek furrowed his brows. – Didn’t you think I had already? I’m confused as to how it could be worse.

      - Fucking beats me, Otabek. I wouldn’t know because I never considered it for a second. – There it was. Finally, in the brown eyes staring back at his, the sign that the words were getting through. _Don’t let him think, now. –_ But you told me to, right? – Yuri brought a hand to Otabek’s face, letting his thumb brush his eyelashes, making his eyelids shut to the touch – Tell me to leave.

 The blonde tried, but it came out so breathy, not convincing at all. It was the last thing he wanted. Otabek put his hand over his and kissed Yuri’s palm. The Russian’s heart skipped a beat when the older man’s eyes opened above his fingers. They were still defiant, yes, but for absolutely different reasons.

      - I could never. – Otabek said, not a hint of hesitation in his voice. – But it’s not the same, Yura, ‘cause you’re being selfless again.

      - You’re wrong. – Yuri leaned to find the Kazakh’s lips and plant a soft, chaste kiss. – You could tell me to leave as much as you wanted, - he began, stepping slowly forward, making Otabek step back and end up sitting on the couch – but I am just as selfish as I’ve always been. - Yuri carefully placed his knees on each side of Otabek, straddling him on the couch – I’d keep coming back to get you. – he leaned back as much as he could so Otabek could have a better view of his body – Because, yes, I am here, in one piece, but I don’t feel whole. 

         Yuri took Otabek by his jaw with both hands, making him look up. He looked so fragile and innocent, submitting himself so easily. _Your heart’s too pure for your own good._ Yuri’s blonde hair draped both of their faces. From that angle, the scar on his pale forehead was exposed for Kazakh to see.

        - Until you tell me that you don’t love me anymore, I’ll keep selfishly telling you what you want until you selfishly accept it. – Yuri said, kissing the man’s forehead before hugging Otabek’s neck close to his chest. – You either wait for me so we can start this all over again tomorrow, or you understand that whenever we are selfish, - _No, I need to be looking at him in the eye for this._ He gently tilted the man’s head up. _Please, it’s taking so much for me not to cry right now. Don’t make me do this again. Please,_ he thought to himself as he contemplated the shimmer in his loved one’s teary eyes _–_ and whenever we are selfless, it’s out of love.

        His words turned into a whisper and he stared at Otabek’s lips, pulling the bottom one slightly down with his thumb before saying his final words. – And, _God damn it_ , do I love you.

        Otabek shut his eyes tight, letting a tear fall from each one. It took Yuri back to the last he had told the man he loved him, only mouthing the words because he wasn’t able to speak them. How Otabek looked like the words weighed on him. _Don’t do it this time. Don’t tell me that you know like it is a bad thing._ But when his eyelids uncovered the Kazakh’s brown eyes, they were matching the grin on Otabek’s lips. His tan hands reached Yuri’s blonde hair, moving it away from the Russian’s face to get a better look at it. Just from that look, Yuri could tell that he was loved.

        - I love you, too. – was what the older man said, with his voice so emotionally charged like he was confessing a long-held secret, with his fingers buried in blonde hair. – Desperately. – he whispered, stretching his neck so their lips could meet again.

        This time, it was softer, tenderer. How long had it been since Yuri had last heard Otabek’s “I love you”? How long had he been longing for it? For _him_? For the peace and warmth that he found in those arms. Beka had always known how to express his feelings clearly, through a song, through a look, even through the pressure of his fingertips on the blonde’s pale skin. It felt like a dream. His senses were hazy as he dried the path of tears that had been left on the other man’s cheeks with his thumbs. He wasn’t crying anymore. _I can’t afford to lose you again._

 - Yura, what about your career?

      _Enough about me._

      - Oh my God, you pick the worst fucking times to be stubborn. – the blonde threw his head back, showing his frustration when he complained.

     Otabek was clearly amused and led him on.

     - Oh, is that right?

     - Well, yeah! – Yuri complained – You’re cock-blocking me!

    The Kazakh started laughing instantaneously, slapping his own face lightly.

    - You totally just said that. – he said, covering his eyes and slightly shaking his head. Yuri thought it was adorable.

    - And what the hell was that about you not letting the doctor put your shoulder back into place? – Otabek gave him a how-do-you-know-that look – Oh, yes, mister, Piggy told me. How did you manage to get it dislocated, by the way? I thought I pushed you.

    - Well, you did, - he replied, tilting his head to the side and trying not to laugh, but failing royally - but to get a man my size down a Harley takes a bit of... force, and you sort pulled my arm when you did it, which was perfectly logical, but the shoulder was out of place before I hit the ground.

     Yuri’s jaw dropped. _Woah, talk about a plot twist._ He gasped. _Fuck my life, this is too funny._ – Oh, shit! Are you serious? – Otabek nodded as he continued to laugh – No way, I am _so_ sorry!

     - _You’re_ sorry? – the man asked, poiting his finger at the Russian – For saving me from a speeding car?

     They looked at each other for a second. Their lips pressed tightly to hold the laughter in, but it didn’t take long before they burst. Yuri held Otabek’s shoulders for support. It turned into curling up and resting his forehead on his left one.

     - Do you miss skating? – the older man asked, running his fingers through Yuri’s hair.

     - Not at all.

     - Is that true?

     Yuri chuckled. – Calling me a liar?

     Otabek did the same. – God forbid.

     - Did you miss _me_?

     - Dangerously.

     - Is that true?

     - Yes, baby.

     Hearing it filled Yuri’s chest. He would have asked Beka to repeat it, but the matter at hand wasn’t resolved yet. He wanted to keep being called “baby” by that man for longer than just today.

     - Are you moving out? – the blonde asked, hesitantly.

      _I am afraid to hear your answer._

    - I don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore, Yura. – he admitted.

    - Beka, - he whined – I didn’t plan to skate forever… I _did_ plan to be with you forever, though. – the blonde tugged on the other man’s shirt – Stop ruining my plans.

    - I _want to_. – Otabek said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. – But my head keeps telling me that I have ruined them already, after—

     Yuri positioned himself so that his head would be hovering over Otabek’s, as he laid his on the back of the couch. The motion made the Kazakh stop talking. Their eyes looked tired, it was like both of them kept had been trying to break down a wall that wouldn’t so much as falter. It was hard to fight something that was invisible, like someone’s conscience. _I am going to show you how to be selfish._ With that thought in mind, Yuri kissed him. Passionately, this time. Showing the man how he had missed him. How he wanted him. In a way, it had always been like this. Yuri lured him in and Otabek gladly gave in. Their minds and bodies had always been so compatible, Yuri found thrill on the hunt, whereas Otabek relished on the capture. It was never a question or a plan to play hunter-becomes-the-prey. _You sure are taking your sweet time before ravishing me, though._

       Yuri bit the man’s bottom lip in between kisses, pulling it and pressing his teeth with the intention of squeezing the blood from the cut out. Glancing at Otabek as he did it, the other man had the most devilish grin forming at the corner of his lip. His eyes had narrowed and his pupils had dilated. Otabek had always told Yuri how his eyes were feline, but his were beastly and full of malice. Yuri wasn’t strong enough to take that look without his body betraying him. _Oh my God, fuck me up._ Otabek had such an alpha-male personality, even in this position, he was dominant. He reveled in being seduced and Yuri got high on Otabek’s desire for him. It was perfect. He heard a breathy “mm” from the Kazakh’s throat when Yuri’s bit harder on his lip for a second before letting it go. The blonde licked the blood from the man’s lip, then painted his own upper lip with it.

       - Be selfish for me.

      The Kazakh took a moment to even out his breathing and gather his thoughts. After five years of dating Yuri and being teased in public places, having self-control and getting used to having to continue doing usual tasks after their bodies had already reacted was as common as waiting for a cake to finish baking or for cookies to cool. Otabek straightened his spine and Yuri followed, still straddling him, but as far as he could reach. The Kazakh placed his hands on each side of Yuri’s waist.

       - Can I?

      _I don’t suppose this is you dying to get me naked._ Yuri nodded, hesitantly, because he had already figured out why Otabek wanted to take his shirt off and it wasn’t to make up for lost time. Still, the blonde bent his torso forward so that the other man could remove it alone. While looking at Yuri’s bare chest, Otabek laid the younger’s man’s shirt next to him. He let his hands wander on the blonde’s left side and back, like the braille on a book he thought that he had lost, before allowing his eyes to find the scar on the right side of Yuri’s ribcage. _This one will definitely kill him._ The scar left by the accident was bigger in length and stretched diagonally for almost four inches while the one on his forehead barely reached one and a half. The Kazakh sighed heavily. _No, we were doing so well…_

\- Looks rad, huh? – he tried to joke, but was completely ignored.

      The other man adjusted them both so their bodies would be closer together and dejectedly rested the top of his forehead on Yuri’s chest. The blonde instinctively patted Otabek’s head. He wanted to say that he was fine, but it wasn’t about that. This was about Beka and his own demons, how hard he was on himself.

      - Talk to me. – Yuri pleaded.

      Otabek moved only his arms to hug the Russian’s back, holding one wrist with the other hand behind him. It was his way of saying “I am still here, I am still listening, I just need to think”. They had been apart for more than half a year. Otabek had been beating himself up for a week longer than that, even. Yuri wanted to let him take his time, but it made him anxious to think that the conclusion his boyfriend would come to was that it was too painful to look at him, that it was easier, or, at least, easier on his conscience, to leave.

_I hate to see you like this. And I came here to fix it, but maybe it’s above my paygrade. You were always the one who reasoned through everything. You were the one to calm me down and reassure me. You were always the one to make me feel better about myself after I messed up in a competition or even with you. I guess you just never needed me to. Or you just didn’t want to burden me. Or I could never see through you because it was convenient for me to always run to you for comfort and expect you to be strong enough to catch me. You deserved better than that. So I understand. Thinking that you failed the person that you love. I understand. But I won’t tell you this just yet. Because you’re a stubborn bastard who won’t ever let me take the blame for not taking good care of you and rather blame yourself for wavering enough to need to be taken care of. Idiot._

\- I feel so bad. – the man confessed in a whisper.

      Yuri looked up. _Still not time to break down._

\- How can I help you? – _I’m sorry I still need you for guidance. –_ Beka, I wanna help, but I am so fucking clueless. – he lamented – Tell me what to do.

      - Forgive me.

      - I have nothing to forgive you for.

      - Yura, - he looked up to catch the blonde’s green eyes – I am asking you, selfishly, to forgive me. 

The Russian’s first instinct was to give the man another comeback because he felt like, if he said “yes”, he would be accepting Otabek’s fault and just considering it was disturbing to him. However, he cupped the Kazakh’s cheeks and gazed at his unwavering eyes. _This is what you need, isn’t it? Will I be of use to you if I go along with your crazy, silly? I’ll have enough time to change your mind after we get our future back._ Therefore, Yuri nodded. At first, hesitantly, but gaining confidence until the Kazakh offered him a pleased grin and covered Yuri’s hands with his.

      - Now, seriously, what about your career?

      - Who gives a fuck, I just figured after the kids grew up a little I’d talk Viktor into buying the rink with me or something.

      Otabek lifted a brow and showed a mischievous smile. - “The kids”?

      _Oh, shit. I haven’t even gotten him back and I’m already throwing babies at him. I’m like Mila and her ticking clock._ Yuri sighed. _Might as well, it doesn’t get any worse than we’ve already had._

\- Yes, Beka, the kids. – _Maybe just take it down a notch and make it one. –_ Miya and our eventual little brat.

      - Oh, yeah? – he bit playfully the tip of Yuri’s thumb – Tell me more.

      _You’re still such a fucking ride-or-die. I hope you know I’ll get your ass nice and hitched._

 - Before this whole mess, I wanted to talk to you about moving to a bigger place, but the dorks beat us to it. – Yuri started. Otabek interlocked their fingers and started planting soft kisses on the back of Yuri’s hands. – We should really move out of here and find a three-bedroom, and you could use one of those for a home studio where you could finally fit a damn piano.

       - Okay, one for the piano. What about the other two? – Otabek had such a sly look on his face. _He’s teasing me. I guess it’s fine._

 - One for us and one for the kid, Beka, pay attention.

       The Kazakh’s smile widened. – Alright, fine by me. – _I am hearing this right? Are we back on?! –_ If you want me, I will move with you wherever. – He kissed the back of Yuri’s right hand – We will get Miya a nephew to grow up with. – Otabek lifted his brows waiting for Yuri’s reaction. The blonde rolled his eyes. He kissed the back of his left. – I will be with you, and care for you, and spoil you until all of your scars fade away.

        - Beka, they probably won’t ever—

        - I know. – he put Yuri’s hands back on his cheeks and held onto the blonde’s wrists, caressing the pale back of the Russian’s hands with his thumbs. – Exactly.

       _Am I dreaming this?_

        - Are we back together?

       Otabek tilted his head to side. – Well, I guess that brings back the question if we were ever broken up— Baby, are you crying?

       He was exhausted. Yuri felt like every time he had pushed his body to its limit in competition, pushing through and pushing through until it finally paid off and he could fall to his knees and cry. The tears built up in his eyes and fell fast down his cheeks. He wasn’t moving, he wasn’t sobbing, he hadn’t even had the time to decide that it was okay to break down, now. As soon as his subconscious realized that it was safe, it was involuntary to cry. He had been worrying about this day for months. He had imagined every possible way that he could be rejected. He had already braced himself for disaster. _Pretty awesome shit comes for those who wait._

\- I swear I thought you’d dump me for some chick. – he said, wiping his tears with his hands.

The Kazakh found the thought surreal. He let out a stretched “What?” as he pulled the blonde closer, having Yuri cross his legs around Otabek’s abdomen.

       - Would you help me out with this? – he bent his neck and showed the Russian a golden clasp from a necklace. Yuri thought it was random, but started to try. He still wondered why those damn things were so small. – Before, um… That happened, you said you thought I was going to ask you to marry me.

       _I do sound desperate._ He dismissed the comment with a chuckle.

       - I was only teasing—

       - I _was_.

      The blonde managed to open at the same time as he gasped in surprise. He felt like he had no strength on his fingers when he took the chain off of his boyfriend’s neck and ended up finding a golden ring with a green stone hanging from it.

 

        “ _Fix me to a chain around your neck and wear me like a nickel.”_

 

 _Oh my God._ He held the[ ring ](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/f9/d9/dd/f9d9dd59cf2fdd851d9f86fc661f33aa.jpg)between his index finger and thumb, astonished.

       - I had it designed in Almaty. – Otabek said and he used his index finger to point out the elements of it – It's a green diamond because it all started with your eyes. – He looked up to Yuri for a second, finding the blonde with his lips slightly parted, speechless. – I told her I had never seen anybody as graceful, and she swirled the tip of her pencil on the paper, freely, but delicately – he showed the movement over the loops with the tip of his finger – like this, but, then, I told her the cats didn’t have claws as sharp as yours – he chuckled – and that’s the reason for the edges.

       The blonde held the chain around his hand, making the ring swing in front of his eyes. Otabek watched blissfully as Yuri seemed to be hypnotizing himself with it.

       - I knew it had to be gold. – he continued. – Because we found each other while striving for it. And, also, wedding rings are gold and I know you wouldn’t want to stop wearing this one and you hate mixing gold with silver. If you did say yes, obviously. – He hooked Yuri’s chin to get him to look down – I was going to wait until after you finished your free skate at the Final and I’d get on the ice just like we did ten years ago, remember? I’d tell you that I’d written Awaited as a way of proposing to you and that you had been skating to it all season long.

 

          _“Promise me your forever,_

_(Mine has long belonged to you)._

_I love the sound of ‘never’_

_In ‘never leaving you’.”_

 

\- But I felt like an entitled bastard every time I thought about it, after—

 

_"Even new wine served in old skins cheapens the taste."_

 

         Yuri was overcome with a sudden urge the kiss that man’s mouth shut. He felt the smile forming on Otabek’s lips, pleased with the blonde’s need for him. He put his arms around Yuri’s waist and the Russian had his tightly around the older man’s neck. _This is too much. I think I might have a heart attack._ Yuri broke them apart for a moment, holding the Kazakh’s chin between his thumb and fingers, making him pout.

        - Are you trying to kill me, Altin?

        Otabek looked down and Yuri did the same. Yuri noticed that he had pressed their bodies so close together, he was practically pressing the Kazakh’s arousal down against his jeans.

        - Are _you_?

       Yuri bit his bottom lip. He couldn’t get enough of turning that man on. _You owe me seven-months-worth of getting laid._

       - Okay, - he started, putting the necklace around Otabek’s neck again – you won’t wanna tell your kid we got engaged a second before our flies popped open. – _Damn these clasps._ He got on his knees again and stretched to look as he tried to close them. – So you hold on to my ring until you think of something cool we can actually tell a nosy brat, okay?

       - _Your_ ring? – It sounded like “So you _will_ marry me?”

       The blonde finally managed to get it closed and lock eyes with his boyfriend. – Mine. – he whispered, and it sounded like “Yes”.

      Otabek didn’t waste any time burying his fingers in Yuri’s hair and kissing him wantonly, deeply. The blonde ran his hands down the Kazakh’s chest, to his abdomen, to finally pull his shirt up. Their lips only unlocked for the second it took go get it past Beka’s head, throwing his shirt to the side, not caring about where it landed. Yuri took his time feeling boyfriend’s muscles under his sweaty palms. They had done this countless times, but it felt like the first. Like teenagers in love who couldn’t get enough of each other. Otabek started sliding down so that his head was laid on the back of the couch, guiding Yuri to follow him. The Kazakh’s hand moved up the blonde's thighs, going for the button of Yuri’s jeans and opening it easily, before sliding down his zipper. The anticipation was making the Russian’s head spin. He ran his nails down Otabek’s chest, getting them caught on the chain. _Wait, that’s my ring._ Yuri suddenly stopped, catching the lust darkening his boyfriend’s eyes. He smirked, then adjusted himself to sit on the man’s thighs.

        - Now, I am going to show what you’ve been missing. – he told the man, as he pulled his belt off at once.

          Yuri unbuttoned Otabek’s jeans and leaned forward. He threw the golden chain holding his ring behind the Kazakh’s shoulder, breathing on his year. – I don’t wanna get it… - he slid his hands under his boyfriend’s underwear – _dirty._

He knew exactly what buttons to push to earn that manly, beastly groan from Otabek’s throat. Before Yuri knew, the Kazakh had thrown him on his back, his legs up on each side of the man’s hips. With one hand on Yuri’s back, Otabek pulled his hips closer as he hovered on top of him, finally getting the friction they were both dying for. The blonde arched his spine and formed an “o” with his mouth. The Kazakh supported himself with one arm on the armrest of the couch, pinning Yuri down.

         He teased Yuri by hovering his lips above of his. – Caught _you._

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **OKAY! PG-13, PG-13!**
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> Oh my God, I love them so much, I broke my heart in tiny little pieces writing this story, but, now, it's like they picked them up and carefully put it back together with all THE LOVE AND FLUFF AND DOMESTIC!OTAYURI <3
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> Like I said before, the next half is for tying loose ends and wrapping this happy ending in a _BEAUTIFUL, MAJESTIC BOW_   because I LIVE for these angels and they deserve the world.
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> **THE ANGST IS OVER, MY LOVELIES.**
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> Again, I can't thank you enough for the support you showed for this fic. You are awesome and I don't know what I did to deserve you. 
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> I'll come back soon with these babies' well-deserved closure. Until then, on this chapter, like on that first one, penny for your thoughts?
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> (Oh, and you can always find me on [Tumblr!](https://myteru.tumblr.com/))
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	7. (2nd Half) Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just be here now, against me
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> You know the words, so sing along for me, baby
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> [ **Three Chreers for Five Years - Mayday Parade** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2UImAIHO4SU)
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>  **A.N.:** Since it's been so long, if you can't recall the events, I'd recomment re-reading, if or when you have the time.
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> Just to remind you of the basics, though, we go from flashback (all italic) to current time, then back again. 
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> It's the author's fault for taking so long.
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> Author's very sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>       I'll save my actual ending words for the end notes, but, just so you know, I've been away from fanfiction for three months, but I couldn't get this one out of my mind. It wasn't like a left it on a cliff-hanger, but I wanted to finish it on a much lighter note, so here I am. Thank you for everyone that has kept up with this story. For you, who has bookmarked this, and was like "whaaaaaa" when this update appeared for you. I don't know if it's even still relevant, since 3 months is a heck of a long time in fandom culture, but I don't love them any less than I did in December, so... maybe...?
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>       Anyways, I'm sorry for the wait and I hope this is chill enough to make up for all the angst. ♡ 
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_It had been like this every day since Beka had retired: they had an hour between the Kazakh going to sleep and Yuri leaving for practice and that was from four-thirty to five-thirty in the morning. Yuri liked to set his first alarm awfully early because “turning it off is like a big fuck-you”, but he only got to do it a couple of times before actually having to get up at five, taking a quick shower – he thought it was wasteful to take his time when he was "just going to get all sweaty and gross in one-point-nine seconds” – and coming out of their bedroom to give Otabek his first morning greeting (a very grumpy, annoyed, characteristically pissed and uncharacteristically sleepy one, most days). However, the older man only heard a very distant “shut the fuck up” to the alarm, followed by the very inviting sound of the shower running and a surprise hug from a still dripping wet Yuri._

_\- What the-- - was Otabek’s reflexive response to the ice-cold arms embracing his neck from behind. He turned his head only to get his face all humid from clashing with his boyfriend’s blonde hair._

_\- You know… baby. - Yuri suggestively whispered. He wasn’t really the type to use such affectionate terms often, probably because he didn’t want them to get old. Probably because he knew they would make Otabek’s body stiffen. – I’m feeling oh-so-very hot._

_Otabek licked his lips and a mischievous smile unconsciously showed on his face._

_\- You don’t say. – he replied, sarcastically._

_He was going to say something along the lines of “you’re also looking pretty damn hot to me”, but the thing was: Otabek was sitting in their living room. In front of the open windows that led to the balcony. In Russia. He was all dressed and it was still pleasantly cold, but, when he turned his chair around, Yuri only had a towel around his waist that, obviously, was just as drenched as the younger man himself. He guessed that was love. The way that he could be facing Yuri’s perfect form, his pale skin reddened by the cold air lurking in - he swore his palms could feel the softness just from memory - but the urge that came over him was to cover him up._

_To cover him up. Yuri Plisetsky, a towel away, and he wanted to cover him up. He would be called so many unpleasant names after Yuri figured this out._

_\- Yura, what the hell, - he started as he got up – are you purposely trying to get sick?_

_\- Yes, - he replied, placing his palms on Otabek’s chest – I think I might have a fever. Mind feeling me up?_

_Even Yuri couldn’t keep a straight face through the whole sentence and asked the question mid-chuckles. Part of the Kazakh found It funny too and he let out an amused breath and poorly feigned frustration._

_\- Seriously, what am I gonna do with you? – he planned to cover the Russian’s torso instead of his thighs and brought his hands to unwrap the towel around his waist, which earned him a shrug from Yuri._

_\- I guess that’s a start. – the blonde lifted an eyebrow._

_There was a tint of red framing Yuri’s emerald-green iris, maybe from the cold or shampoo or from having just woken up. Even his eyelashes were still wet. How could a person be so beautiful in the morning? Or just getting out of the shower? Or at all? But, still, there were droplets falling from the strands of hair attached to his jaw. The Kazakh slightly shook his head and complained “sheesh” before quickly leading the towel to the blonde hair and trying to use a moist towel to dry it, stepping forward to guide Yuri out of the living room._

_\- Go put on some dry clothes, the cold’s making you stupid._

_\- Hey!_

_He bit the younger man’s nose. – Oh my God, what’s this ice-cube doing on your face?_

_\- You’re not funny._

_\- You know, I wish I could lick you all over, but my tongue would get stuck._

_Yuri seemed to ponder for a second. He narrowed his eyes. – So dry clothes?_

_Otabek nodded. – Dry clothes._

_He watched as the Russian grabbed hold of the towel and disappeared to their bedroom completely naked, mimicking his boyfriend’s movements of drying his hair. Yuri had posed for many magazines’ top 20 sexiest men in sports, top 5 hottest figure skaters – which Otabek had also taken part in -, Korea’s International Flower Boys, Russia’s Most Beautiful – amongst men and women – and so forth. It was no news that Yuri Plisetsky had the likings of a god. But no one else could get a glimpse of that ass so casually at a quarter past five. Otabek saved a moment to count his blessings then._

_Through the nights of the past week, the Kazakh had been working on the lyrics of the first song Yuri would, hopefully, skate to in the next season. The blonde’s request had come in a convenient time. They were going on five years of dating. That was a milestone many tabloids pointed that they would never reach. Five years of his mother melting his eardrums with acid words. Five years only being sure of one thing and that thing being Yuri. Five years inhaling his best friend’s fruity cologne. Five years loving and breathing him. If he were being honest, Otabek had never considered getting married or having children. He came from a big family and this fact alone was suffocating. It wasn’t like he hated his parents or his sisters or the dozen cousins he never seemed to be able to connect the names to their faces. It was a cultural thing, he realized. Having lived in different places throughout his teens, he had caught on to the family dynamics in different countries and it always seemed like Kazakhstan sheltered the most pestering relatives in the goddamn planet._

_Apparently, everyone thought they had a say in what he did or how he did it because they shared a last name. It was all fun and games when he was away and all they heard from him was his placement in competitions and the status of his relationship with Karina that her parents passed on. No one had reached out to him and asked how it felt to place fourth at the GPF Jean Jacques Leroy had screwed to hell. No one asked how many weeks him and Karina had gone without seeing each other, or even having a decent conversation. “Is he the best in Kazakhstan?”-“Yes”, “Is he in a stable relationship with a girl with good reputation”?-"Yes". And that was it. It was enough. Until they heard about the fellow competitor that he had started dating, then it was like nothing else mattered. Then, he only heard hurtful comments that he hoped to God Yuri would never become aware of. That was the concept of family that was etched on his brain. It didn’t interest him to add anyone to it._

_Coming to Russia, however, and being so impossibly close to Viktor and Yuuri – people who romanticized family immensely -, knowing how his Yuri had never had the chance to build a concept of family of his own, growing numb to his mother’s opinion and living together with his best-friend-turned-lover, he started to think that they might as well be married. If everything were to continue this way, like the past years, he thought… he would love that. He would really love that._

_Yuri Plisetsky was clueless of this fact, but Otabek Altin was going to propose._

_The Kazakh himself didn’t know how his boyfriend would react. They had been consistent over the years, but never explored too deeply the possibility of a concrete, honest-to-goodness future together. Yuri was very scared of change. Otabek was aware of that and knew that he had every reason to, given his past. No matter how people decided to interpret his ways, Yuri was a sensitive person. Every one of his emotions came in waves. He was afraid of hitting walls of which he didn’t know the thickness. Afraid they wouldn’t be able to take the hit. He was really under-confident when it came to his relationships. Otabek would understand if the blonde decided to say “no” to his proposal. He would at least let Yuri know that he loved him enough to ask._

_He hadn’t gotten into how he would do it, though, so writing this song lit a bulb over his head._

_\- Here. – he heard Yuri interrupt his wonderings for the next verse when he placed a cup of coffee beside Beka’s keyboard and kept walking towards the balcony._

_The view from Otabek’s chair could easily inspire the most specific of painters. The blonde obviously hadn’t picked a proper outfit and chose to wear one of his baggy t-shirts instead. It was useless to expect a Russian to bother with the cold. Just watching his boyfriend looking over the waking of the street from the fourth floor, while sipping his coffee and brushing the inside of his right leg with the sole of his left foot, so pale that he could see the bluish tracks of his tangled veins... Solely from that sight, he was able to come up with the next verse. The idea of “forever” became clear as day when he realized, if he could choose a second for time to freeze, a view to stare at forever, he would choose to gaze at Yuri in his times of true peace and calm. The Kazakh wondered if his boyfriend was happy. At the very least, Otabek was happy being given the honor to catch those glimpses of Yuri’s real self._

_\- Babe, would you, please, not lean there? – It was a beautiful sight, but the fragility of the glass fence was making him anxious._

_Yuri turned his head only enough so his eye could lurk above his shoulder. Otabek heard a chuckle._

_\- Come on, it’s dangerous. – the Kazakh insisted._

_\- What if I did this? – the blonde held on to the fence and started leaning forward._

_\- Yura, come on. – he pleaded, but the younger man kept slowly bending his body over the edge. Otabek caught himself about to get up. – **Yuri, stop!**_

_The Russian suddenly stepped firmly on the floor again as he laughed and turned around. Yuri had the brightest smile on his face._

_\- You’re so stupid, I’d never fall off._

_\- Do you think you’d fly if—_

_\- You’d catch me. – he said, using a low, almost whispery tone and bit his bottom lip as he still smiled. – We’d both fly._

 

 

* * *

 

 

       Yuri woke up with the sound of Otabek buckling his belt by the bed. He noticed the Kazakh had brought their clothes from the living room to the bedroom – they were neatly folded on the side the older man had fallen asleep on - and Otabek caught the blonde’s open, green eyes when he bent over to pick up his shirt. Beka smiled at him and supported his weight on the mattress to kiss the Russian’s cheekbone. 

        - Go back to sleep. – he said

        Yuri frowned. – Are you leaving? – _Again?_

       - Just for a bit. – The Kazakh told him as he fixed the covers that had left Yuri’s shoulder while he slept. – I don’t have many clothes here, so I’m gonna go change at Mila’s.

       The older man sat with his back turned to Yuri to put on his shoes. The Russian gazed pleased at the freshly made scratches that printed Otabek’s tan skin. It had really been a bother not to have a sign that Yuri had gotten his claws onto him before. It was still hard to believe that he hadn’t woken up alone, even harder to believe that he had woken up to a shirtless Otabek after getting dead tired from arguing and crying and kissing and pleasuring each other until they couldn’t physically take it anymore. Even harder not to have his claws on him right now. Impossibly hard to just let him wander off somewhere.

       - Why the hell do you need clothes? – Yuri mumbled, sleepily.

       - Got a gig tonight. – he replied, getting up to finally put on that shirt.

       - Ah. – the blonde sounded disappointed and used the blanket to cover his nose and mouth, letting his hair fall to hide his eyes.

       _It’s probably weird if I invite myself. He spent six months Yuri-free. He’ll probably find me clingy if I ask to go, right? Yeah. If he wanted me there, he’d just invite me. His band will be there, maybe he’d rather explain things to them first. Shit, the freaking groupies must be rejoicing thinking he’s available. A good Christian shall not use the jawline of a committed man to get their wet dreams going... Damn chicks “accidentally” rubbing their boobs on other people’s boyfriends... The one thing that I don’t have—_

      - Want me to get something for you at Viktor’s on the way back? – Otabek asked him and Yuri suddenly felt the man weighing on top of him. – If you wanna come, um… - the blonde could feel the man’s fingers starting to draw circles on his back – I mean, we have a new set and everything, so, um… Nevermind, you haven’t even talked to the press yourself yet, right? – the Russian hadn’t moved an inch or made a sound – Yuri?

     _I know your new set by heart. I refreshed the search by upload date for your name on YouTube every day. I checked your fan accounts for candid pictures of you doing your thing. I also checked the photos that you were tagged in and found some girl wearing your cap again, even after I threw that ginormous fit two years ago because you gave a fan that flannel you wore around your waist. I’ve wanted your eyes to find me in that crowd and look only at me for the longest time. I wanted them all to know that I am lucky enough to call somebody like you “mine”._

      - You’re asleep? Don’t worry, it’s probably too crowded—

      - I’ll go. – the blonde suddenly told him from under the blanket.

      - You will?

      The Kazakh heard Yuri’s muffled “mm-hm” and saw his new bangs fold when he nodded.

      - Great. I’ll be right back, so go back to sleep.

     The Russian felt his boyfriend’s weight lift off of him and grabbed his wrist before the man could use it to get up from his sitting position. Yuri was so sleepy. The sheets smelled weird from being unused for far too long, but it was like his skin remembered their softness and sent a signal to his brain that it was nighttime and he was home. It was time for bed. However, the last time he had let that man leave his bedside, he'd never returned. It was such a scary feeling to carelessly fall unconscious again and wake up to a note that read “I changed my mind.”

     - Yeah? – Otabek’s voice was as sweet as honey when it reached the younger man’s ears.

     Yuri’s fingers moved from the Kazakh’s wrist to hold his hand. He let out a hoarse “hang on” as he used it to support himself to get on his knees, not bothering to brush the hair away from his eyes, only lazily kneeling behind Otabek. He hugged his boyfriend’s waist and rested his head on the older man’s broad shoulder, too weak not to allow his eyes to close again. Otabek remained silent. Yuri could smell his own cologne on his neck. _It’s nighttime and this is home_. The Russian moved from kneeling to wrapping his legs around Otabek’s waist and his arms around the man’s neck, like a child going on a piggyback ride.

     - Did you sleep okay? – the blonde quietly asked.

    _“Beka has been having this nightmare where you fall from your balcony, then he runs to catch you, but ends up using you as a shield when you hit the ground.”_

     - I had almost forgotten what it was like to sleep this okay. – the Kazakh positively replied.

     - I won’t do it again. – _I won’t go near that balcony ever again_. It sounded so mumbled and muffled he doubted he’d be understood.

     - Mm? – he voiced, slightly turning his head – What did you say? – silence – Yura? You can sleep, love, I’ll just lay you down, okay? – but Yuri tightened his grip – Hey, what’s wrong?... Hm? – he kissed the back of Yuri’s hand and waited a second for an answer – Alright, then I’ll lift you up.

     The blonde suddenly opened his eyes.

     - Wait, what—? – but Otabek had already gotten hold of his thighs. - What the fuck, put me down, you’ll throw your back out—

     - So you weren’t asleep. – the Kazakh turned his head to show give Yuri a smirk and a side-eye.

     Yuri’s green eyes suddenly widened and he was sure that he was blushing. He reflexively slapped the man’s shoulders.

     - Put me down, asshole.

     - Jeez, what a personality change, you were just now clinging to me like a sloth—

     A harder slap with both hands on his back this time. The sound resonated in the room.

     - Ow! Jesus! – the older man exclaimed, freeing Yuri’s thighs of his grip.

     Yuri was ready to return his boyfriend that smirk, but Otabek’s expression was completely different from the distraught, feigning pain one that he expected to find when his boyfriend turned around. Otabek’s lips were pressed and he looked like he was biting the inside of his bottom one. His brown eyes were sparkling with the silliest happy face, one as stupid as Viktor’s, but why did he find so unbearably cute? He instantly lost all his willpower to tease and went with the surprised, blushing face instead because who had the strength to go against Beka? As he stood frozen, he felt warm, fuller lips quickly touch, press and leave his own. Otabek’s face was now an inch away from his, looking straight into his eyes.

      - You’re cute. – the Kazakh beat him to the punch.

      Could his eyes get any wider? Could his cheeks get any redder?

      - **Eh?!** – Yuri exclaimed as Otabek walked away – **Who are you calling cute?! You know what, fuck you, Beka** … “Cute”, me… Yeah, right… If anyone’s cute--

      - I’ll be going, then – the Kazakh sang on his way to the door, completely ignoring his boyfriend’s nervous fit.

      Yuri hesitated for a second before letting out a frustrated “ugh!” and reaching for his clothes – **Wait for me!**

      The blonde quickly got ready, leaving the bedroom while still tying his hair up. Otabek opened the door for them. Yuri sighed and took his keys from where he had thrown them earlier.

      - You’re an adult, Beka, lock the door. – he complained.

      - You lock it. – the Kazakh replied playfully, waiting at the top of the stairs.

      It felt like they were going back to their usual dynamics. It sounded like that had been what Otabek was trying to tell him. “You’ll be here to lock it for us” or something like that. When they went down the first step, Yuri held on to the leather around Otabek’s arm. The Kazakh glanced at him.

      - What? – the blonde tried to sound grumpy – You’re a flight-risk, so I’m hanging on to you. - The Kazakh smiled at him. – If you call me cute one more time, I’ll—

      He was interrupted by the older man’s motion of pulling his arm up and away from the Russian’s grip, only to tightly grab his hand.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  _"You’d catch me”, Yuri had said. Smiling so brightly at that balcony that he could've been mistaken for the very sun. “We’d both fly”._

_"In case I’m not able to get to you in time, right?”, Otabek thought to himself, but decided to let it go. The picture of Yuri falling off kept flashing clearer the more he thought about the subject._

_\- Can you just sit down and have your coffee? It’ll get cold._

_The blonde had left his mug in a little high table that they left out there with an ashtray for the “smoker friends” they didn’t even have. It had been one of those stupid purchases that you make when you’re going out specifically to buy house utilities. Yuri looked around, to remind Beka that there wasn’t a chair there (it didn’t fit)._

_\- Where am I supposed to sit?_

_"His ankle", Beka figured. He wanted to be there in the mornings, to watch as the city started to come alive, so he put all of his weight on the fence not to strain it. It was so obvious. Otabek rolled his own chair to parallel it to the view of outside. The Kazakh simply looked down quickly at his own thighs to signal Yuri to sit on his lap._

_\- Are you serious? – the blonde cocked his head to the side._

_\- What?_

_\- You can’t remind me of sex when I have to go to practice._

_\- Damn, Yura, where did you think I meant?_

_\- Oh, was it somewhere boring? – Yuri made a face, trying to fake disappointment, but brushed it off – I know you too well to think you’d be the type to get the message across like that. – he chuckled as he took the steps towards the Kazakh and sat comfortably with his legs to the sides on the man’s lap. Yuri looked at his boyfriend mischievously. – Where did you think I thought you meant for me to sit?_

_Otabek choked on his coffee and Yuri laughed, pleased that he had gotten the reaction he’d hoped for._

_\- It’s too bad, though. – the blonde continued – It’s like we’re living in opposite sides of the world even though we’re at the same place. – Otabek put his mug on the desk and started caressing Yuri’s hair – I spend the day out and I get home beat, but your day is only just starting. In the morning, we can still hang out, but then I have to go to practice again... It’s so annoying._

_The Kazakh kissed the younger man’s hair. – But we still—_

_\- No, I don’t mean sex._

_“That’s a first. For this morning, at least.”, he thought. Otabek offered to put down Yuri’s mug for him and the blonde laid heavily against his boyfriend._

_\- I got used to you being at the rink._

_Yuri hated change. Otabek knew it far too well. It was making his confidence waver. It had been like this when they first started living together, after years of nourishing their friendship from different countries most of the time._

_\- Is it quiet here without me?_

_Otabek huffed. – Too quiet. But the cats are here and the resemblance is uncanny._

_\- To me?_

_\- Yeah. The way they’re always trying to get on my lap is--_

_\- Oh, shut up._

_\- I have something to show you. Or play for you, rather._

_The wheels rolled back to desk. Yuri brought his feet down when he straightened his spine to give Otabek the space, then put an arm around his neck and began to softly scratch the day-long scruff up the older man’s jaw. The Kazakh remembered his boyfriend commenting, in his own tsundere way, that there were two situations when the older man’s hands were what was the most attractive in him. "The first,"– because he had to – "is when they are holding my knees on your shoulders. And the second is when you use your thumb and pinky at the same time to reach keys that are too far apart and I can delineate the anatomy underneath your skin." Beka could tell instantly that that first one had been what Yuri could come up with to try and get away with the tenderness of the second._

_And the Russian had always loved to listen to his boyfriend’s music. He’d always been open and attentive. Except for some Norwegian bands that Yuri said were “straight-up crap”. But he paid special attention when Otabek was playing. If he glanced at Yuri, he would be able to catch his iris following his fingertips meticulously. Otabek began playing the blonde’s program music that was supposed to represent Forever. It was a piano piece, the Kazakh had warned beforehand, but he wanted to know if he was supposed to keep working on it or stash it away. He composed the second verse on the spot, trying to convey what he had listened to in his head while watching Yuri on the balcony, but that was as far as he went, not even daring to sing the lyrics along with it. If Yuri thought he had put too much work into it, he would be hesitant to say “This is garbage. Next.” He was Yuri Plisetsky after all. His roommate, yes. His lover, yes. But Yuri Plisetsky, one of the greatest figure skaters of all time, all the same. Composers would kill for a chance like this. He wanted to be worthy of it._

_The music stopped. Yuri was quiet for a second too long. Otabek was about to let out an anxious “So…?”, when his boyfriend’s excited tone filled his ears._

_\- Tell me this is my music._

_\- It was supposed to be, ye—_

_He was interrupted by the Russian kissing his mouth shut._

_\- I fucking love it.  – he grabbed the collar of Otabek’s black hoodie – You’re the bomb, have I told you? – Yuri was so good with his lips that even quick kisses like this couldn’t be labeled innocent – Do you have something I can show to Viktor? – he throws his head back to laugh – Pork-cutlet-bowl is so fucking screwed._

_\- Only the first verse, but I can record it right now._

_\- Beka. – Yuri’s tone of voice changed and he looked straight into his boyfriend’s brown eyes, bringing his free hand to his cheek. – I felt it. – he let his hand slide to the other man’s chest. – Somewhere, in my heart, I recognized it. You... – he turned that same hand into a fist and pointed with his forefinger to Kazakh’s heart  - don’t belong in that rink. – he let their foreheads touch – You…_

_There was a tint of red framing Yuri’s emerald-green iris, maybe from the cold or shampoo or from having just woken up, or being about to cry. His eyelashes had dried and they were golden. It was something that always crossed his mind, how looking at Yuri’s eyes was like staring into a forest. How could a person be so beautiful in the morning? Or saying and doing the most reckless things? Or at all? Yuri Plisetsky was not a regular person. He was something that happened to this world. A one-time-only occasion. Otabek felt like the only person being able to see the shooting star, even though everyone was staring at the same sky._

_\- Me? – he encouraged the blonde to continue, holding the hand that rested on his chest and leading it to his lips to plant a kiss on Yuri’s palm._

_\- You inspire me to reach for greater things._

_At that time, Otabek didn’t understand what retiring from skating to focus on music could be so great, much less inspirational. By the end of his career, he had only been skating to make a point. It hadn’t been a hard decision to quit. He was going to ask what those greater things were. He wanted to know what Yuri wanted to reach for. But the atmosphere changed one-eighty when the Russian’s phone rang. Yuri angrily took a deep breath._

_- **VIKTOR, YOU LITTLE BITCH!** – He screamed at the phone that was still ringing in the bedroom and then got up to get ready. The Kazakh gave himself a face-slap and laughed quietly._

_He wouldn’t know how the scene reminded him of a quote from Breakfast at Tiffany’s, but it had never been a mistake to give his heart to that wild thing._

_They kissed each other's lips when they crossed paths as Yuri left the bedroom and Otabek was on his way to the bathroom to take a shower. He handed a flash drive with the recording of what he had composed so far for Yuri to give to Viktor._

_\- I still had a solid five minutes. – the Russian complained while opening the door._

_It only took undressing and throwing his clothes on the sink to find the keys to the rink Yuri had brought home the night before, after staying late. Otabek wrapped a towel around his waist and stood there behind the door for less than a minute before the blonde came back and opened it. Yuri shook his head at the sight of his boyfriend and clicked his tongue._

_\- Even though I told you not to rile me up before practice… - a deep sigh. – Using my frail memory to seduce me… Wow._

_\- Not like I was trying, but I’m ready if it worked. – the Kazakh teased and Yuri whined and pouted. – Come home on time today. – Otabek said, handing him the keys._

_Yuri stretched out his arm to grab the keys, but decided to grab Otabek by the wrist and pull him closer instead. The Kazakh stopped himself by using his free hand to hold onto the door frame above him, otherwise he would have stepped outside half-naked._

_\- Eat your veggies. – the blonde told him, dragging the tip of a key down his bare chest – I’ll be back at five._

_\- You haven’t been back at five since I’ve known you._

_The key had reached his belly button and was still going down._

_\- I just reeeeally feel like being back at five today._

_Otabek found himself leaning forward and felt a grin forming on his face, and he had forgotten about Yuri’s practice for a second there. But Mrs. Norin suddenly opened the door across the hall and it startled Yuri, who ended up dragging that key further down and sliding the towel wrapped around the Kazakh with it._

_\- Oh, sh---  They murmured, startled and in unison._

_Yuri quickly turned to the woman and used his body to cover his boyfriend’s as he tried to recover himself in every sense of the word._

_\- Mornin’, Mrs. Norin. – the blonde greeted casually._

_\- Oh, good morning, dear. Going to practice?_

_-  Yes, ma’am._

_\- Good morning, Mrs. Norin. – Otabek appeared over Yuri’s shoulder._

_\- Seeing such pretty boys first thing in the morning really lifts the mood of an old lady. – she offered them the “old-lady-laugh” that Yuri liked to imitate: “Ho, ho, ho” – Well, I’ll just be going to visit Mrs. Krokovich downstairs in a bit. - Yuri also found annoying how "old people had a knack for oversharing" - You boys behave, eh?_

_They faked some smiles and waves before she went back inside. Yuri turned half of his body to Otabek._

_\- We need to move. – he said, too fast and too suddenly._

_\- Do you think she saw it?_

_\- Please, Beka, the woman hasn’t seen “it” since 1963._

_\- Why would she tell us to behave?_

_\- Did she? I don’t take authority well so I developed a selective hearing._

_The Kazakh kicked the back of his knee lightly, but it made Yuri stumble two steps forward and practically hiss at him, angrily turning to the stairs, yelling "THAT'S WHAT OLD PEOPLE DO!"_

_\- You're seriously such a handful. – Otabek said as Yuri took the first step down and the woman opened the door once more._

_\- Prove it! – the blonde shouted._

_They had been hanging out for a long time. Otabek could just sense the double meaning in what he'd said and automatically turned to check Mrs. Norin’s face. She looked confused, so he just shrugged and said “I know, right? I don’t get him either”, followed by a fake laugh and a very real one coming from the Russian walking down the stars. Yuri came back running again and couldn’t hold back from chuckling when him and the old lady crossed paths again. Beka narrowed his eyes and Yuri quickly picked up the keys that had fallen on the floor in front of the older man. His phone rang when he turned to the stairs again._

_\- UNCLENCH, OLD MAN, I’LL BE RIGHT DOWN._

_Really, what a wild thing._

_\- Tell coach I said hi! – he asked as Yuri started running down again._

_\- Don’t count on it!_

_\- Don’t hurt yourself!_

_\- Protein, Altin! – he yelled from the floor down – Don’t forget!_

_\- Be home at five! – Mrs. Norin wasn’t there, so no problem yelling, right? He wasn’t even sure if Yuri had been able to listen, but went inside and closed the door behind him. – I reeeally hope you’re home at five… - he murmured to himself._

      

 

* * *

 

         

       They avoided being spotted by the line outside and entered through the side door, that led straight to the concert hall and was separate from the bar. The other three band members had already arrived and set the stage; Otabek’s microphone stand and his guitar already waiting for him to start the sound check. Anton was less than subtle bringing to everyone else’s attention that “Hey, Yuri is here!” and smiling joyfully at the Kazakh before slapping lightly his cheek twice.

        - _Now_ you’re talking. – he said proudly to the his vocalist before bringing Yuri into a hug that was tighter than he was comfortable with – It’s good to see you in one piece, Yurotchka.

       Anton had a habit of calling Yuri by such nickname because he was eight years older than the blonde. The younger man always complained saying that they weren’t that close, but Anton insisted that it was unrelated.

       - Yeah. – he replied less than enthused, tapping the man’s back.

      At least, Kai and Remi stuck with the good old fist-bump. The air was still stuffy inside. The light that was on was the regular white. The echo was making itself known with every note played. They had arrived later than they’d wished because, even though Yuri had waited outside of Mila’s and Otabek had waited outside of Viktor and Yuri’s, they still hadn’t been able to contain their friends’ curiosity (Viktor being characteristically pushy) and took longer than they’d expected to be allowed to leave their apartments. Therefore, he couldn’t invite Beka for a drink. He was still sleepy, however, so at least a can of RedBull that he could bring back to the concert hall would have to do. The problem was that the pub was always crowded. It was specially crowded on concert nights, hint the line outside for the lack of space. He didn’t know how it was now, but, six months prior, everyone in the room knew who him and Otabek were. Of course, in Russia, it was hard not to recognize them, but, since he attended every concert, people were used to seeing him often and had made up this illusion that they were somehow acquainted and weren’t embarrassed to try and make small talk anymore.

       He was worried about having to deal with the hassle of them asking about the accident, or about skating – or quitting skating – or his and Beka’s relationship. It was true, he hadn’t given a proper interview, not even announced that he was, indeed, retiring, but the public was already speculating that it was the case. Viktor had warned him to avoid such questions. Refusing to answer to “Are you retiring?” would be the same as confirming it and it would overshadow a future official announcement. Gladly, Mila and Orin walked in and greeted him with a Sprite. Yuri was sitting on the floor in the center of the room, lined straight with the vocalist’s spot. The couple sat beside him, also ignoring the perfectly good chairs available.

      - I would’ve preferred something with a little more caffeine. – he noted.

     She sighed. – How ungrateful – Mila complained – You always get that, though. What’s the matter, did something, or _someone_ , tire my kitten?

      - I was all worked up last night and couldn’t sleep, that’s all, you pervert.

      - Oh, c’mon, don’t be stingy, tell me, tell me, tell me – she started pulling his sleeve, like a child asking her mother for Cheerios. Yuri made a face. – Did you do it, did you, did you?

       - Did who do what?

       - Ugh, did you and Beka fu-- — her voice was a little too loud for a room with seven people and the guys on stage suddenly stopped what they were doing to stare at her with wide eyes, so she switched to whispering – … fu...ck?

      Yuri gave her what she called “the judgy look” before taking a sip of his soda.

      - Depends. – he shrugged. – Yeah, but not literally.

      - Why? Weren’t you dying to—

      - Wasn’t my idea. He didn’t want to put it in me because it had been too long and I’d be sore, etcetera, etcetera.

      - As someone who’s slept with girls, that’s not that big of a deal.

      - I ain’t some girl. – he sounded defensive, it irritated him being treated like someone fragile.

      - Yes, Yuri, we all know you can take it. – Mila forced herself to say monotone. - That wasn't what I meant.

      - You’re damn right. – he offered to tap their cans together like a toast and take a sip, continuing after swallowing his drink – But he was right, too. About this… And about everything.

      In theory, he was speaking to his friend and her fiancé that listened quietly - like he had been while observing their shenanigans for the last year - but the blonde’s eyes never left Otabek, who was tuning his guitar absent-mindedly.

      - He said something to me that god-forbid he ever learns is true. – The couple listened attentively as the younger man kept talking – Multiple times, actually, he said that I sugar-coated things and let him off the hook. – he huffed – Then he said that I would look at him and remember something that I lost, but pretend it didn’t hurt me so he wouldn’t feel bad. Although the first part was way off, the rest of his reasoning for leaving was spot-on. I wouldn’t even have gone to physiotherapy right if Beka had been there. I wouldn’t want him to see me broken and I probably wouldn’t have recovered like this if he hadn’t left. So, when it comes down to it, he took off ‘cause I’m a stubborn son of a bitch.

       - To be fair, both of you are.

       - I don’t want to be anymore. – he said and caught Otabek glancing at him, unable to listen to their conversation. – The idiot says he wants to marry me. Me, the stubborn son of a bitch, of all people.

      Mila and Orin exchanged joyful looks.

      - And what did you—

      She stopped herself at the sight of Otabek jumping down the stage and running towards them, getting on one knee in front of Yuri (too casually to be The Proposal, for her disappointment).

      - They’ll be opening the doors, now. – he told them.

     They usually stayed at the front-left corner, across from the doors because they were the last to leave anyway, so no need to be pushed by euphoric, sweaty groupies. The Kazakh fixed his boyfriend’s bangs before running back to stage. Orin waited for him to be far enough to ask Yuri if his scars had been seen, to which the blonde only nodded. 

      - What did he say?

      - I’ll consider it a win that he didn’t pass out.

      As the room started to be filled with people, even though Yuri had his back turned to the door, he could hear them buzz “Isn’t that Yuri Plisetsky?”, “Hadn’t they broken up?”, “I guess he can walk after all”. When he heard it, the blonde turned his head. The absurdity of that rumor was still shocking to him.

      - It _is_ him! – a disturbingly high-pitched voice pointed out and, as the crowd got in, they gravitated towards Yuri.

      It wasn't scary _per se_ , but the touching freaked him out and those were Otabek’s fans; _It’s not like I can tell them to fuck off or anything._

      - Hey, guys. – he heard the Kazakh’s voice on the mic. It wasn’t even time for him to come to the light yet. – Hands off, please.

      Their attention suddenly shifted and the girlish screaming was the most pleasant sound Yuri heard from them since they had been allowed to get in. The crew followed the adlib and turned the red lights on. Otabek shyly showed the crowd his palm as a way of saying “hi”. Yuri was honestly astonished by how he was able to deal with the amount of eyes on him.

      _“Hands off, please” Haha. So polite._ The laugh he showed the vocalist managed to get the thought across and Beka winked at him. It was enough for the screaming to get louder and all the eyes turn to Yuri again.

     _That’s right. I’m right here._

Since they had started a little earlier than expected, the band quickly appeared and Anton humored the crowd while they finished entering and adjusting, talking about how he was in a good mood, “right, lead?” (It was how he called Otabek during concerts) and started the introductions of the members.

     - Are you okay? – Mila took the moment of mild quietness to ask – They came at you like bulls.

     He shrugged. – Meh. As long as they don’t try to get info outta me and keep their hands off, I’m fine.

     - When are you going to announce the retirement? – Orin was a straight-to-the-point kind of guy. He had to be to be Mila’s husband.

     Yuri leaned to the left the help them listen to him better. – I always thought I would – End of the Kai’ introduction. Screaming. Start of Remi’s – I always thought I would put all my medals on and just be like “Peace out, bitches”, but now I’d feel like a loser, so I don’t know. I need… -

     Screaming.

     - He said he needs something more consistent. – Mila yelled in her fiancé's ear, who hadn’t been able to listen.

      Yuri only saw him open his mouth as he voiced an “Aaaaah”. Remi’s introduction had ended and Otabek’d was supposed to be next, but the crowd was so loud that he was just standing there shyly, waiting for his chance to speak. The blonde could make out the distinct “I love you”s and of course they did. _Just look at him._ The Kazakh was wearing Led Zeppelin t-shirt with cut-out sleeves that showed the skin on his sides every time he lifted his arms to hold the microphone on the stand. The way that his hair curled just a little at the end in a way that was never as boring as simply straight… Otabek had a natural edge to him. He could blush on that stage as much as he wanted and he would still look like a rock star.

     **\- You’re so hot, Altin!** – Yuri screamed and his manly voice easily filled the room.

      Apparently, it was the last straw for the Kazakh, who crouched from embarrassment. It was a door Yuri should have never opened because the girls started repeating what he had said and it made him just a tiny bit jealous.

      - Alright, alright, let’s just skip me.

      _Cute._

Yuri noticed how they also skipped The No Seatbelt Song and replaced it with Who Walks with Me, an authorial song about appreciating the person who’s always by your side. It had an [Eden](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YthChN1Wq8M) feel to it and the Kazakh’s hoarse voice made it sound hypnotic. So Yuri closed his eyes and listened. He only listened.

 

**_Keep the windows open_ **

**_Take me for a dive_ **

**_I thought my wings were broken_ **

**_You told me we could fly_ **

**_Don’t want no prior notice_ **

**_Don’t need no one, two, three_ **

**_My mind is always open_ **

**_For the one who walks with me._ **

“Even when I don’t mean to write about him, I end up writing about him, you know?”, the Russian remembered Otabek saying. _You and that balcony thing again, I swear…_ Without even noticing, he was smiling to himself. The next song was one that he had listened a few hours before and he felt his chest tightening. He wondered if[ “Run”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZQbgihHWNGo) had been ruined for him forever. Beka had both of his hands on the mic and his eyes were closed. He could hear him taking a deep breath before singing the first line. **“I’ll sing it one last time for you…”** No one in that room knew the depth of the meaning that those lyrics started to carry since their reencounter. No one but him could listen to those words the exact way Otabek was singing them. That was exactly what those brows eyes told Yuri when they found him in the crowd. **“Then, we really have to go”**. Yuri’s breathing was starting to get heavier, but his eyes never wavered from the ones staring back at him. For that reason, he didn’t miss the evanescent grin in Otabek’s face.

 

**“You’re the only thing that’s right in all I’ve done.”**

      Maybe because it was so ironical that, earlier, he was singing this song as a way of saying goodbye to Yuri and now Yuri was right there, the Kazakh couldn’t help but sing mid-chuckles that weren’t because he had found anything funny, but for how this turn of events was just surreal to him. Yuri was feeling the same way as he listened. The crowd joined them for the first chorus.

        **“To think I might not see those eyes makes it so hard not to cry and, as we say our long goodbye, I nearly do.”** After those words, that sounded a lot heavier than the first part, Otabek was still looking at Yuri, but let the crowd sing the second chorus while he only mouthed the lyrics.

 

**Light up, light up**

**As if you had a choice**

**Even if you cannot hear my voice**

**I’ll be right beside you, dear.**

**Louder, louder**

**And we’ll run for our lives**

**I can hardly speak, I understand**

**Why you can’t raise your voice to say**

  _You fucking love this song._ He wondered if “Run” had been ruined for Otabek forever. Therefore, Yuri placed a hand on the corner of his mouth and sang his lungs out with the crowd like he was in a heavy metal concert.

 

**Slower, slower**

**We don’t have time for that**

**All I want is to find an easier way**

**To get out of our little heads**

            He didn’t know if he would ever get over the way Beka had love in his eyes. How he could express so much through a simple gaze and closed-lipped smiles. Maybe this was the happiest Yuri had ever seen him, so he kept going.

 

**Have heart, my dear**

**We’re bound to be afraid**

**Even if it’s just for a few days**

**Making up for all this mess**

     The blonde brought his hand to his chest and he tried to catch his breath after screaming so loudly, but he still smiled at Otabek, who pressed his lips tightly together and fidgeted as if he were deciding whether to act on impulse or not. Yuri furrowed his brows and caught the moment when the older man found his resolve. Otabek took long steps to right edge of the stage, sticking his hand under his shirt through the cut-out sleeve and yanking what Yuri figured was the necklace that held his ring out. There were stairs on that side (the reason why he had decided to take the long way towards Yuri). The crowd started screaming their lungs out again when he stepped out, but Anton took the mic to repeat “Make way, make way” as the Kazakh cut through the people to find Yuri on the other side.

     The Russian could only instinctively follow him with his gaze until Otabek was right in front of him, panting and determined. A circle started forming around them and there were girls squealing all around. Yuri’s eyes were bright and wide, but he nervously tucked his hands in his back pockets.

     - I looked for you… – the Kazakh started between breaths – In this crowd… every night.

     _Is this it? Is he doing it now?_

\- I love you. I love you so much I feel like I could die right now.

     “I love you. I love you so much I feel like I could die right now.” It was the same thing he had told Yuri when he woke up at the hospital. “Knowing that you’re awake […]” 

     - Knowing that you are here,

     “[…] Holding your hand […]”

     - Watching you sing,

     “[…] With your smile being the last thing I ever saw.”

     - With your smile being the last thing I ever saw

     “[…] and die a happy man.”

     - And die a happy man.

     _Don’t say that, stupid._ Yuri wanted to frown, to show him a face, to scold him for talking about dying so nonchalantly, but his eyes filled up with water. Beka pulled the broken chain that held the ring and extended his hand, asking for Yuri’s. The blonde could feel himself shaking, but complied.

     - But I think it would be a waste not to spend the rest of our lives together. – the older man said as he slid the ring down Yuri’s finger.

     Yuri was biting the base of the forefinger on his free hand, that he had turned into a fist, as the crowd cheered. He could distinct the “yoo-hoo”s coming from Anton on the mic and the all-too-familiar excited screams from Mila. Someone yelled “It’s Yuri’s turn” and the blonde was caught off guard. Otabek turned his head in the direction of the sound and raised his voice to say “Mine is not here” and then turn back to Yuri.

     - I did _not_ think this through. – and they both laughed.

     - Don’t worry, it’s better than dry-humping.          

     Otabek practically choked and quickly had his index over Yuri’s mouth repeating “sh” playfully as the closest fans chanted “Woah” and passed “He said it was better than dry-humping” on for the people in the back who couldn’t hear a thing. 

     - Oh my God. – the older man’s eyes were tightly shut from embarrassment and opened suddenly when Yuri bit his finger.

     - You were saying…? – the blonde encouraged, finally more in control of himself to tease.

     But the crowd was too loud, which gave him time to think properly before Mila yelled “Shut up” three times, increasingly louder. _Well, this is fun._ Otabek untied the flannel around his waist and used it to pull Yuri closer by his. When their hips were pressed together, the Kazakh brought his lips closer to Yuri’s ear.

     - One would hope this would also be better than some used flannel, - he referred to the fan giveaway that made his boyfriend lose it and started tying it around the blonde’s waist in the middle of them – but one can never be too careful around a tiger.

     Then, the Kazakh crisscrossed his fingers on the blonde’s back, and Yuri followed by throwing his arms around his neck and pulling the older man’s bottom lip with his teeth. _This is going to be all over the news tomorrow._

 _-_ Yura.

     - Yeah?

     - What would a nosy brat think about this?

     He smiled and then pouted. – I think they’d approve, yeah.

     - Yeah?

     The Russian nodded and Otabek brought his hand to Yuri’s cheek, leading his thumb to brush across the scar on his forehead from underneath his bangs so that it wouldn’t be on the news the next day and kissed the top of the blonde’s head. Yuri smiled to himself when the band started playing Awaited, the song Otabek had said he would’ve proposed to him with, if the accident hadn’t happened. There was a sudden silence in the room.

     - You are the only home I’ve ever known. The only one I ever want to know. – He told Yuri with a voice charged with emotion and brought the blonde’s hand to his lips to kiss the ring on his finger. – So will you keep it this time? 

     - I’ll never wear silver ever again. – Yuri tried to joke as a tear fell from his eye and they wouldn’t stop falling after, so he pulled the man into a tight embrace. - I love you so much, I feel like my heart’s gonna explode. – It was too muffled from having his face buried on Otabek’s shoulder for him to hear.

     The crowd began clapping and cheering around them. Otabek swept Yuri’s feet off the ground by his waist and the blonde automatically wrapped his legs around his now fiancé.

      - Come on, Beka, ask him right! – Mila yelled and the crowed started chanting “ASK HIM” after her.

      They were half-crying, half-smiling when they met each other’s eyes again. Yuri brushed the man’s loose strands of hair back with his fingers, ending up crisscrossing them on the nape of his neck.

      **ASK HIM**

**ASK HIM**

**ASK HIM**

**ASK HIM**

\- Marry me, Plisetsky.

      **WE COULDN’T HEAR YOU**

\- **Marry me! –** he shouted and the crowd cheered, but it felt strange to use such a loud tone towards Yuri, so he lowered the volume the next second. – Will you? You will, won’t you?

      Yuri couldn’t help but laugh at how a person could be so hot and so sweet at the same time. He pulled the Kazakh’s hair to pull his head back and kiss him until the crowd stopped clapping and allowed him to answer.

      - Hell fucking yeah.

 

 

* * *

 

 

     Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov said that he would cook dinner, so, of course, none of them would deny watching Yuri’s exclusive interview to ESPN at their apartment. It had started not long ago and the blonde had already gone over the details on his injuries and they’d already shown his medical reports and everything. No one paid attention to it because everyone was busy distracting Otabek using Miya’s crying as an excuse to have him lift her up and sing her songs. It wasn’t hard to tell that he didn’t want to see it either. The fact that the reporter had taken airtime to say “The rumors regarding the young skater’s ability to walk have been proven completely false” was what got their attention back to the TV. Yuri was sitting on the floor while Viktor, Yuuri, Mila, Orin, Georgi and Mara squeezed each other on the couch like a big family. Otabek was standing behind it, rocking the baby in his arms.

 

    “ **The skater also insists that his injuries weren’t the reason for his retirement.”**

It cut to Yuri’s profile in the actual interview footage.

 

     " **\- I’ve made the podium 27 times in my career. I figured, when you have more medals than years of existence, it’s time to give the boys a chance."**

His tone was clearly sarcastic, but the people on the couch all gathered to give him light slaps.

     - Ugh, what an ass. – Mila commented.

     - You really have to learn how to contain your self-awareness, Yurio. – Yuuri pointed out.

     - Haven’t you learned anything from me? – Viktor’s question earned him some slaps of his own.

 

     " **\- Seriously, though. I have been planning to retire from skating ever since my grandfather died and that was almost four years ago."**

**"- Could you tell us why?"**

**"- I guess… Since he had always supported me, it made me feel accomplished to make him proud and to make my country proud. On the other hand, he was my only family, so, after losing him, it made everything that I tried to do seem shallow. I believe you would be able to tell if you watched my performances of Magic."**

**"- I remember that season! Didn’t you still make the podium in every competition?"**

**"- I did, but mostly thirds. Even when I pushed my body to the limit at the GPF, I still could only win silver."**

**"- That was the year Otabek Altin from Kazakhstan took the gold, if I’m correct?"**

**"- He had won gold medals before, just not at the GPF."**

**"- Then he retired right after."**

**"- That’s right."**

**"- Did Altin’s retirement increase your own desire?"**

**" - No. Like I told you, at that time, I had already been thinking about retiring. But I can’t say it didn’t influence me at all."**

**"- In what ways did it influence you?"**

**"- Beka—I mean, Otabek also retired of his own free will. His career was at its peak and he couldn’t care less, you know? He wanted to persue music—"**

**"- He even composed your last season’s program music, right?**

**"- Isn't he awesome? - - Anyway, he proved  to everyone that he could be the best, better than me, using his own methods, then put away his skates and went on to the next dream, you know? And, when I saw him so happy, I wondered what I was waiting for."**

**"- Have you found an answer to that question? What you were waiting for?"**

**"- Oh, yeah. I had been skating for almost twenty years. It was something that had always been certain for me and I’m one of those people that hates change, so I always hesitated and thought I could get by well enough as a skater, but, honestly, what I really wanted was to build something else that would last my entire life, like a family."**

**"- We have all learned about your engagement to Otabek Altin. What are your plans for the future?"**

**"- Oh, we’ll definitely wait for our first kid before getting married so that he can attend."**

**"- He? Are you revealing the gender of two memorable figure skaters’ gender in this exclusive as well?"**

**"** **\- Huh? Oh, no, no. It’s…** **I don’t even know if he notices this, but Otabek always refers to the future child as a boy and I’ve only imagined myself being a boy’s father, so I guess things will end up working out that way."**

**"- Well, Mr. Plisetsky, although very saddened for your departure, we all wish you good luck on your future endeavors and a life of happiness for you both, and your son. To wrap up, could you tell us what was the proudest accomplishment in your career?"**

**"- Mm… If figure skater Yuri Plisetsky were to answer, he would say the first GPF after his senior debut. If I weren’t on TV, I would probably say something else, but who’s most important to know already does. The me right now, however, can tell you honestly that he won his favorite gold after he retired."**

**And he raises the back of his hand to show his engagement ring.**

Yuri wasn’t embarrassment at the statement, but he was anxious about all the teasing that he was about to fall victim of.

     - They cut all the questions about you and Katsudon! – he laughed, trying to shift the attention away from him. – Jeez, that was so boring, let’s have dinner already.

     - Yuri, you finally got out of the tsundere closet. – Georgi said in a congratulatory tone. – I’m proud.

     - Otabek, wasn’t that beautiful? – Viktor turned to ask – Aren’t you touched?

     Yuri found the man’s gaze on him and he got up and turned around. The Kazakh was clearly startled by the sudden question and probably by the broadcasted worldwide love confession from Yuri.

      - I— I—

      _We’ve been together almost six years and we’re getting married, how can this still be awkward?_

      - Shut up, you’re embarrassing him. – was the way Yuri found most natural to storm out to the kitchen.

      They followed him anyway and his cheeks were as red as tomatoes when his phone rang. When he looked at the screen, it read “Yoda”, which was how he had Yakov’s number saved. Yuri was surprised, he hadn’t listened to Yakov’s voice since his birthday and, as much as he didn’t want to show it or deny to himself that he was feeling it, that interview had stirred all of his emotions. He walked out of the kitchen and sat behind the front door. He could still see Otabek walking with Miya back and forth, but nobody had followed him there.

      “Hello, Yurotchka.”

      - Hi, old man. – His voice was small. He felt like he was fifteen again.

      “We just watched your interview.”

      - What did you think?

      “You’re still the same brat you were fifteen years ago, aren’t you?”

       He chuckled. – I guess I am, old man. I guess I am.

       “This is the first and last time I will confess to you that I always meant it as a compliment.”

       The blonde sensed Yuuri Katsuki sit quietly beside him and Otabek chose the spot behind the couch and across from him to stand. His vision was too blurry to look up because his eyes were starting to fill up with water. He owed everything to Yakov. Even if he had quit skating, he still owed twenty years of the elder being his father, his mother, his coach, his manager, even his driver at times, not to mention Geometry teacher.

       “You did a great job, my Yurochka.”

       The blonde couldn’t help but squeeze his eyes shut and sob quietly, burying his head on his knees.

       “You know I don’t know how to react to people crying, son.”

       Sobs. “Sorry.”

       “You and Vitya are the pain-in-the-ass children I never had. I may not have much time left, but you have got a family in me.”

       Yuuri put an arm around the younger man and pulled him to his chest, rubbing his arm supportively as he cried.

        “I thought that I should tell you so you don’t worry about it anymore.”

       - Mm-hm.

       “I’ll be coming to visit soon. Still haven’t met Miya.”

       - Okay.

       “Grow out your hair, you’re looking like a girl.”

       (Chuckles) – Okay.

       “Live happily and proudly, Yurochka. You did an amazing job.”

       - Thank you. – he managed to make out. – For everything.

       “It was my honor.”

       Yuuri kept shushing people away when they came to check what was going on. Even Otabek that was looking worried was told to stay where he was, so the man sat with Miya on his lap at the other side of the room, but still being able to see Yuri.

       - Is everything okay? – the Japanese man asked in his motherly tone, to which Yuri nodded as he wiped his tears. – Was that Yakov? It sounded like him from here.

       - Yeah. – Yuri replied heavily as he sat himself straight. – He wanted to put my mind at ease, I guess.

       - I’m sure he did. But is it? Is your mind at ease now?

       The blonde placed his crossed arms on his knees and rested his head on them, turning to Yuri, so that he could speak lower and only the older man listen.

       - I don’t think my mind can be at ease while Beka’s still isn’t.

       - He’s getting better. – he glanced at the Kazakh playing with his daughter. – He’ll be a good husband to you. And a good dad.

       - No surprise there. – the blonde said – It’s me who’s got some things to work on. I think Yakov knows and was officially releasing me from who I was. Yuri Plisetsky spent too much time worrying about being the best to work on his boyfriend skills. – he smiled – But Beka’s Yura will give his blood, sweat and tears to become a man his kid can rely on. So you guys don’t have to worry about Yurochka anymore.

      Yuuri chuckled and ruffled the blonde’s hair, careful not to misplace the pin holding his bangs – I’ll always worry about little Yurio.

      - Me too! – Viktor head appeared lurking into the room. _Of course he was eaves-dropping._

\- Do you need anything, honey? – _And, of course, innocent pork-cutlet-bowl didn’t figure it out._

The silver-haired man pouted. – We can’t tell if the Oden is ready.

      - Okay, hang on. – he turned to Yuri – Don’t think I forgot your pork-cutlet-bowl pirohzkis… Yurio. – the Japanese man smiled and got up to the kitchen.

      He watched until the men disappeared and found Otabek’s eyes still on him. Miya was playing with his headphones. The man pointed at him, then showed a him a thumbs-up, mouthing “You okay?” The blonde nodded, but the Kazakh didn’t seem to believe.

      - Miya, - he called out too loud and pointed at Yuri again – you know who that is? That’s _nii-chan_.

      Yuri was disappointed that there was nothing for him to throw at the older man, but lost his will completely when Otabek showed him a smile. It was a sight to behold, Otabek Altin holding a baby, using that silly over-pronounced tone, letting her do as he wanted with his headphones, even after such a long time being used by the puppy couple in the kitchen. Yuri opened his phone camera and zoomed so they fit perfectly in the square. It was a moment Otabek was trying to place the headphones on her head. By the third photo, the Kazakh caught him. “Hey!”, the man exclaimed in a normal voice, then started signaling and mouthing words again.

     First, he pointed at Yuri. “You”

     Then at himself. “And me”

     Then at Miya “One of these”

     Then he moved his hand forward with his forefinger up. “Next”

 

      A smile and thumbs up was Yuri’s reply. “Cool”

 

 

* * *

 

 

  **Yuri-plisetsky tagged you in a picture**

Liked by **jjleroy15** , **delaiglesia** , **minamikenji** and **237 others**

 **yuri-plisetsky:** Peace out, bitches. #26andretired ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

       View all 57 comments

       **n-katsuki-y** : aww @v-k-nikiforov that’s our baby ❣

       **v-k-nikiforov** : our Miya loves her brother-in-law ❤❤❤ @n-katsuki-y @otabek-altin

       **orin1990** : consistent enough, buddy

       **mila-babicheva** : my ovaries exploded, ilysm #toocute

       **popovich:** @dailytsundere

       **otabek-altin:** get over here |(￣3￣)|

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just say this first: thank you again for your kudos and comments.
> 
> Don't ever think I took such a long break from writing for lack of encouragement. You were awesome. I remember writing most of this chapter, then losing it and never bringing myself to write it again... Things got a little messy. I even dropped out of uni. (I'm fine, though. Just wasn't in the right mindset) 
> 
> I'll be grateful if you still give these angels lots of love and hope to see you again in another fic.
> 
> **BUT WAIT**
> 
>   * Since I'll be rewriting that prologue that I accidentally deleted, even the ones that have been here since the very beginning will get the update. SO, still come to check it out because I'll be leaving extra scenes as well! (ᵔᴥᵔ)
>   * I did draw this Yuri as a coloring test, but ended up drawing it too large, so zoom in if you want to see it clearly ([here](https://drive.google.com/open?id=0BwYGpbwkMv1Pd0cxcDZZV0djNm8))
>   * I explained on Tumblr that I stopped writing [Crossfire](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10753662/chapters/23844057) because it's supposed to grow pretty dark, but I think I'll be finishing that one after this. 
>   * Lastly, as always, if you enjoyed this, let me know in the comments or leaving your kudos. They're very much appreciated. <3
> 

> 
> Thank you for everything. And sorry again.
> 
> Much (boys) love,
> 
> -K 
> 
>  
> 
>  


	8. After (Extras 1.1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinking doesn't Always have to lead to disaster \- Part. I  
>  Green-Eyed Monster \- Part. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey! This is me posting everything that I didn't fit into the story for some reason. I hope you enjoy it (even though I'm still creating Drama)  
> And here is Yuri being jealous and unreasonable because aren't we all?

 

* * *

**After the Official proposal.**  

* * *

 

 

          They were both in such a haze. Yuri didn’t even feel sleepy anymore. After the concert was done, they headed to Anton’s house along with the rest of the band, plus Mila and Orin. The bassist and his wife provided the drinks and the group sure as hell wasn’t going to turn them down. It didn’t take long until not one of them had a sober fiber in their body and the couples were starting to become a little excessive with the touching. It seemed like Kai and Remi were finding each other especially attractive that night. For the way they had always been so careful not to touch each other, everyone else knew that there was something there. The friends were sitting in couples on throw pillows at their fireplace-lit veranda.

         - Hey, Tony – Otabek broke the silence while they stared at Remi’s hand on the side of Kai’s neck -, I don’t think _those two_ should _drive_ tonight. – He enunciated the sentence to help the host take the hint.

        The Kazakh could feel Yuri’s mischievous smile on his shoulder as the blonde’s grip on his biceps tightened.

        - _Riiiiiight…_ \- Anton nodded his head exaggeratedly – We _do_ have a guest room if you wanna stay over.

        - Us? – Mila pointed at herself and her fiancé. Anton was too drunk to know even where to look at.

        - **Us!** – Kai replied, way too loud and uncharacteristically. – He means us! – he turned to Remi and lowered the volume of his voice. – He means… us.

        - Aw, but I’m too sleepy to go home. – Mila whined, pouting and burying her face on Orin’s neck. – Can’t we just crash here?

        - No chance in hell, hag, four people moaning at night is the new millennium, but six is disturbance of peace. – Yuri replied and made like he was going to get up, but the world was spinning around him.

         Otabek held the blonde’s far shoulder to try and help him find his balance.

        - Yura is right… somewhat… - the Kazakh mumbled, finishing his bottle of Stolichnaya. He crawled just enough to get in front of Yuri, then get on his knees and offer the blonde his hand. – Come, my betrothed.

        Yuri was functioning slowly. He looked at his fiancé and smiled. _Heh_. Then threw his neck forward. _Heh_. _I’m so drunk._ He ignored the hand and used the man’s shoulders for support instead, then offered both of his to the Kazakh, who got up and instantly threw an arm around Yuri’s neck.

       - Anyone’s sober here? – he asked, looking around and only heard moans – Who’s the soberest? – and they all pointed unsteady fingers at him. – That’s not… - a deep sigh - Ugh.

     The Kazakh reached for the phone in his back pocket and ordered the cab while Yuri rubbed his cheek against his chest and hugged his waist like a light pole during a flood. He heard Orin urging the redhead to get up, but she was adamantly snuggling those throw-pillows, which made the blonde reach for his phone and switch to hugging Otabek’s neck and filming the scene from above the man’s shoulders.

      - Oh, God, please get those two as well. – Beka pleaded, turning both of them so that the camera would be pointed at Remi biting Kai’s earlobe. Yuri showed a pleased grin.

      - You’re fun when you’re drunk, Altin.

      - I’m the soberest.

      - Sure, and I’m celibate.

     - I’m so fucking drunk. – he instantly countered. – I mean, drunk outta _my face_ , like, batshit wasted. _Who’s_ Altin?

     Yuri giggled in his ear. – I get it, _you’re_ getting it.

     The Kazakh tightened his embrace and the blonde stopped the video and did the same. It had been the most eventful day of his life. He had woken up in the morning, giving up trying to get any sleep before going back to his apartment, to find the man that he had been missing for months on end, terrified that everything was going to finally crumble to pieces after staggering for so long. But, no. He was very aware of the golden ring on his finger. The thought made him smile, inhaling that sinful cologne that Otabek wore deep into his lungs, hoping to make it a part of himself, hoping to be able smell that man on cue, even if he weren’t around. His fingers instinctively found their way into the Kazakh’s hair. The mumbled sounds coming out of their drunk friends had turned into background noise a long time ago. It was so far away. All that Yuri could hear was his own heart and Otabek’s breathing close to his ear. They both had their eyes closed.

        - Baby, - he heard Beka whisper. “Mm?” – Let’s go home.

        Yuri nodded without moving. – Do you have your keys?

        - Oh, no, we’re taking the cab with Mila.

       The blonde made a face. – We’re, like, two blocks away.

       - We can walk, if you want.

        - Are you a grandma—

        The Kazakh took a step back and cupped Yuri’s cheeks with his hands.

        - We’re not doing this again. – he stated, firmly.

       Yuri swallowed. He had completely forgotten about the last time he had insisted that they rode while intoxicated. He could swear that very thought got him to sober up, even if only a bit. For that little bit of rational thinking, he remembered to shrug it off. The blonde rolled his eyes.

        - Fine, but you’re at my service tonight. 

       Man, was he gorgeous when he smiled like that. Yuri would never get tired of it.  Otabek sometimes made it clear that he was falling in love all over again, with that unwavering gaze, that expression that was like a person encountering the light at the end of the tunnel. The lack of another reaction for a second too long, long enough for the blonde to read in that man’s face that he had just won his heart again. A tan, large, gentle but possessive hand reached the side of Yuri’s head, fingers running through his hair, making the blonde display his jaw and neck so that Otabek’s mouth could reach his ear and start:

        - Love of my life, - then his lips slowly brushed along the blonde’s flushed jawline – fire of my loins, - he lightly tugged at Yuri’s hair to straighten his head and kiss him. – other than being a reckless fool, - the Kazakh’s thumb ran across Yuri’s lips – I’ll do anything you want. 

        Okay. Yuri had to admit that he had gotten lost in his fiancé’s voice for a second there. How couldn’t he? But, then, he remembered.

       - Isn’t that a line from Lolita? – he furrowed his brows, but was already finding it funny as hell when Otabek confirmed it by tilting his head – God damn, you _are_ a lolicon!

      The Kazakh put his hands up. – Easy there, just the first part. I always wanted to say it.

      - Do you want me to wear knee socks? – the blonde tested with an eyebrow raised.

      Otabek pondered - Huh… – It sounded like “Interesting.” and he seemed like he was picturing it.

     -  YOU A _RE!_ FUCK! ALL THE FOLLOWERS I LOST DEFENDING YOU!

     - Am not.

     - You _so_ are!

    He shook his head. – Mm-mm. It’s not about the socks, sweetheart.

    Yuri could already feel the warmth reaching his cheeks. He knew exactly what Otabek would say next. Something so unbelievably sappy that would make him melt like butter right then and there.

       - Don’t. – the blonde widened his eyes and told him.

       - It’s about—

      Suddenly the Kazakh had a pale, Russian finger on his lips. – Don’t say it.

      A grin formed on Beka’s face. He disregarded his fiancé’s attempt to shut him up. – It’s about who’s in them. – and he kissed the blonde’s finger.

     It was no use. Yuri threw his head back and whined.  – Whyyyy?! - Absolutely defeated, then let the top of his head rest on the man’s chest. – Why do you have to be so fucking cheesy?! – Yuri’s shoulders were moving up and down as he let out muffled crying sounds and tapped his feet as if he were standing in lava.

    Otabek couldn’t help but laugh. Yuri was simply so damn cute. He patted the blonde’s head.

    - ‘Cause I love ya. – he said, teasing, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

   Yuri only lifted his face enough so that his green eyes were staring at his fiancé’s.

   - So? – the blond spat – That’s not enough reason.

   Beka smirked and bent his knees just enough so that they would be face to face. He bit his bottom lip when he found his Yura’s pale skin all tinted red.

    - How would _you_ know? – he challenged and lifted an eyebrow.

   Yuri practically hissed. He didn’t know if the redness were from embarrassment or from anger. Probably both.

    - Because I— Screw you, you already know.

    - What do I know? I’m so drunk, can’t even remember my own birthday.

    He stomped on the man’s foot. Hard. – It’s on fucking Halloween. – And the other. – And you’re a mean drunk, Altin.

      The Kazakh had wrinkles forming between his eyebrows from the tolerable, but annoying pain on his toes. He suddenly gave Yuri the puppy dog look. – Oh, darling, why do you hurt me so... – Yuri crossed his arms and looked from one side to the other. He was really cute when he was embarrassed, so Otabek quit the act and pulled him close by the hand. – I’m sorry.

      The blonde reluctantly found his place in the man’s arms again, tugged at the sides of his shirt.

      - What I meant to say was, you could be wearing knee socks, leather shorts or dressed up as freaking Yoda and I’d still want you.

      Yuri didn’t get the chance to reply before he heard Orin’s voice next to them.

      - It’s true. – he said, holding Mila on her feet – I thought it was a myth, but Otabek’s sexual orientation really _is_ _you_ , Yuri.

      - Uh-huh, me and the entire female demographic.

      Yuri wished he could have blamed it on the liquor. But it was jealousy. And insecurity. Nobody could blame him either. He had been a green-eyed monster since birth.

 

 

* * *

 

**2 YEARS BEFORE**

**The infamous Flannel Incident.**

 

* * *

 

 

      After his afternoon practice, Yuri admitted to himself. It hurt. His ankle motherfucking hurt when he landed that axel. Every rational thought that crossed his mind told him to stay home, lay down, put some ice on it, bathe in Bengay and come up with a random cold that would make Otabek feel sorry for him, which would get him to be pampered like Marie-freaking-Antoinette and, still, not have to stand in a crowd for an hour. But it was concert night and he loved it. He loved it that Otabek loved it. Not many things were quite as pleasing watching his boyfriend pouring out his heart to a room full of people that appreciated him for the brilliant soul that he was. Maybe wearing boots had been a bit of a stretch, though. He could feel them confining the swelling and was already coming up with an excuse to bail on tomorrow’s practice. _Too drunk? Too sore? Suspicion of Tuberculosis?_  

        Yuri didn’t want to, because he had come out of his selfish desire, but, rather than a French monarch, he felt like Virgin-fucking-Mary. The world’s greatest boyfriend, hands down. _And the world’s most arrogant asshole, by number of votes. If Beka knew anything about this, he’d have tied me to bed in the most unsexy way imaginable._ However, there was another reason the blonde would never miss Otabek’s concerts: They were dangerous. It was not like he expected it to be any other way, but his boyfriend was quite the show-stealer. It happened to all vocalists, sure, but Beka’s band had this concept of being “intimate” with their fans – in the sense of being honest, they said – and they signed their stupid Wet-Dream-Material posters and they kissed his boyfriend’s stupid cheek and rubbed their stupid boobs on him, even when Yuri’s presence was known. They even had the fucking audacity of asking to take pictures with him, too.

         It was true, Yuri had a long history of being jealous.

         It was also true that he was well aware that what he had was what was caused by deep abandonment issues because of his mother just dropping him off at his grandfather’s when he was two and taking off because she was “too young to waste her life on him”. Only to get herself drowned right after.

        _Don’t open that door. You’re jealous because you’re a possessive brat who never knew your place and that’s your man who the thirsty-ass hoes are sneaking a touch._

 Yuri was leaning on a wall in the opposite side of the room, watching quietly from afar. He had glared at the fans way too many times and they had complained about it – or nagged about it, ratted about it, chirped about it, whatever you’d call little girl tattle-tailing – to Beka, who had politely asked him to, please, not scare off their fans. There was no way Yuri could fake a smile, so he’d rather keep his distance. Most days, there would be somebody with him and they would be enough of a distraction, but it had to be tonight that his eyes caught the exact time Otabek unwrapped the flannel around his waist and helped this girl put it on while she had this hysteric look on her face before they took a picture together and Otabek hugged her goodbye with a smile and called the next person. Yuri swore his eyes had never had the need to widen this much. He was pissed. No, more than pissed, he was fuming. He watched the girl walk out of the room and into the pub still wearing his boyfriend’s shirt and, if he weren’t a grown-ass man, he would have followed her and demanded it back. This was more than intimate; it was… _I mean, it smells like him._ He couldn’t help but groan at the picture of someone else smelling Beka’s clothes. His breathing was pacing faster and he had to get out of there. The blonde turned his head not to have the Kazakh in his sight because he didn’t know if he would scream bloody murder or outright cry and made the path the flannel-stealer had just walked on.

       She had short, blue hair. It was straight and flowy and even shorter on the back, so Yuri could see the nape of her neck. It was pale and looked soft, so… Delicate. Feminine. She was also short in height and the shirt looked so baggy on her, twice, maybe three times as much as it looked on Yuri. She was making her way out of the pub when she picked up her phone. Her free hand hanging on her side, but Yuri could only see the tips of her fingers lurking out of long sleeves. It reminded him of a porcelain doll. Yuri couldn’t hear her through the buzz. _If it were me, this entire fucking bar would be hearing my conversation._ For him, they were so different. Yuri’s fingers were long, he wasn’t ripped, but he still had a muscular body. He was tall and manly and… Rough. His skin, his knuckles, his jawline, his entire personality. Everything about him was rough. Masculine.  He knew that he had softer features than most men, but still… His voice would be filling up this room. _Fuck._ Just watching her walk away, it reminded him of Karina. He wasn’t mad anymore because, honestly, he had no energy for that.

         _Girls, man._ He knew that other men had nothing on him, but girls… They were on a whole other league. He couldn’t even compete with them. Not on in the ice, not off of it.

        He felt a hand on the back of his head, caressing his hair. Otabek’s neck was bent, trying to get Yuri’s attention. He hadn’t noticed he was just standing in the middle of the bar like a loser.

        - Are you feeling okay? – the Kazakh asked him, then made a face.  – Was it too boring?

       All Yuri did was look down and, when he couldn’t find the red, plaid flannel around his boyfriend’s waist, he just shrugged and stepped forward, walking away. Otabek jogged a little to catch up, after taking a second to be confused. He grabbed Yuri’s wrist.

       - Hey, what happened?

       The blonde licked his lips. _You being bi happened._

 - I feel like throwing up. – Yuri said, looking ahead. – So I’m leaving.

       - Did you even have time to drink anything?

      _Tsk._ \- Did you even have time to lose your fucking clothes? – The blonde spat, then yanked his arm free of his boyfriend’s grip.

      Yuri hid his hands in his front pockets and made his way out. He knew Beka was following him and wasn’t saying anything not to make a scene. God, it was pathetic, but it made his stomach curl that maybe Beka… Damn it, he heard it all the time. Guys having fun with other guys, making it an experience, then throwing them away to live the good life with the pretty wife and the white fence. All Otabek had to do was wake up one day and decide to drop him off at his grandpa’s, except that his grandpa was dead, so maybe Viktor would have to do. Or maybe he was too old to have anyone else take care of him at all. Maybe all Beka had to do was wake up one day and just… leave.

        The blonde started getting anxious as soon as they stepped outside, so he tried to rush his steps to where they had parked the motorcycle so that they wouldn’t have to talk about – or fight over – this right now. He knew, in his heart, that he had no reason to argue with his boyfriend, but anger management had never been his forte. And he was angry at everything. From heteronormativity to his Adam’s apple, he hated everything.

        - Yura, stop. – he heard Otabek say, his voice calm and collected, as always.

        Yuri ignored him.

        - You won’t tell me what this is about? – the Kazakh insisted.

        There it was. The blonde only turned around when he was beside the motorcycle. He gestured with his head for Otabek to get on. He didn’t move, only crossed his arms on his chest.

       - Did I do something? – he asked, and even that sweet tone was annoying.

       - Look, if you’re not taking me home, I’ll just walk. – was the blonde’s reply. He sounded angry. There was nothing he could do about it.

       Beka took one hand to the back of his neck.

       - Are you mad at me?

       Yuri threw his hair back. He was seriously losing his patience over literally nothing.  - Are you coming or not?!

        Beka sighed and shook his head slightly. When he took the first step forward, Yuri got on the bike and put on his helmet with record speed. He heard Otabek click his tongue when he put on his.

        - Hold on to me. – The Kazakh told him as he started the engine. The blonde hesitated. – Jesus fucking Christ, Yuri. – Otabek complained, his voice muffled by the helmet, throwing his arms back and taking Yuri’s, wrapping them around his waist.

        Without another word, he took off.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post the make-up in a bit, don't worry!!!! I love them too!!!!  
> (oh, and ily for reading this, fyi - thank you for everything <3)
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I want to change the summary for this fic, do you guys have any suggestions? Some part that you liked?


	9. After (Extras 1.2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Green-Eyed Monster \- Part. II
> 
> Drinking doesn't Always have to lead to disaster \- Part. II  
> 

 

* * *

 

**THE INFAMOUS FLANNEL INCIDENT**

**PART II**              

     

* * *

 

 

 

           It was already two-thirty in the morning when they arrived at their building. Otabek had an absolutely blank expression on his face and he wasn’t even glancing at Yuri while they made their way home from the parking lot. The natural course the Russian’s feelings went had him regretting ever opening his mouth as soon as they had begun riding the streets of St. Petersburgh. Yakov was right. He was a brat. Always throwing tantrums, then ending up being aggressive towards his boyfriend, who had no need of handling whatsoever. But Beka still did and he never held it against him or even yelled back. Yuri wondered if the blue-haired girl was a nice person. He wondered if she really was soft-spoken. He wondered if Beka would have held her hand on the way up the stairs if she hadn’t thrown a senseless fit. Maybe a girl like her would apologize right about now, if she had. _I don’t even know what I’m talking about, even a dude would. Viktor would be licking the floor Yuuri walked on and Yuuri would be promising Viktor his heart, body and soul for his forgiveness. The problem, in the end, really is me._ Yuri sighed. Only a couple more flights left. He took his cellphone out of his pocked and opened Instagram just to make himself look busy. It was too awkward.

             _Nevermind, the problem is YOU AND THE SMURFETTE BITCH._

Beka almost dropped the coat that he had folded over his arm when Yuri grabbed him by the wrist and rushed him up the rest of the stairs. This time, it was the blonde who didn’t even bother to look back because, as soon as he closed that door, he would give that man a piece of his mind and they couldn’t get there soon enough. After pulling the Kazakh – who looked unfazed, by the way, and almost tired - inside of the apartment, the blonde cornered him against the front door and held his cellphone inches from Otabek’s face.

           - What the actual fuck?! – Yuri screamed and all his boyfriend did was squint his eyes to try and make out what was being shown to him.

 

Liked by **pushhkoya** , **merkdnt** , **dohrk** and **13** **others**

 **nibyashmenka:** got a taste of what it's like to be @yuri-plisetsky tonight (it's 

        #bliss in case u were wondering) ❣

       **vanykof16** : HE REALLY GAVE IT TO YOU??? OMFG #JEALOUS 

       **pushhkoya** : why are you taking a pic smelling the guy's clothes, you creeper

       **nibyashmenka** : at least @vanykof admits she's jealous @pushhkoya

 

           - So she’s your fan. – was Otabek’s conclusion.

          Yuri’s eyes widened and wrinkles formed between his brows.

          - Are you fucking with me? Are you seriously that dense?!

          For a second, the Kazakh’s inhale was the only sound in the apartment. He closed his eyes, maintaining his composure. Not that he minded his boyfriend’s tone, but it was too late at night to decode whatever it was that he was supposed to. The blonde’s arm was still positioned, his iPhone in hand, even though the screen had already gone dark. Otabek held the back of that hand with his left, gently, and slowly pulled the phone out of it with his right. Yuri didn’t complain, only stared at his boyfriend’s fingers adjusting to intertwine with his in the middle of them. Otabek took a step forward and, not looking at the Russian, he placed the phone in front pocket of Yuri’s black leather jacket. He guided their joint hands down.

         - Don’t get me wrong, okay? – the older man asked, then let his shoulders sink down and started leaning his side against the wall – I’m just… exhausted right now… _From working, from working!_ – he quickly clarified, worried Yuri would think it was because of him. The Kazakh led the back of his own hand to his lips, kissing Yuri’s fingertips – What’s really bothering you?

        Honestly, how could anyone win over him? Otabek’s eyes were half-closed and it was so clear how he was trying not to let his lids shut, but his features were still soft as he gazed at Yuri and the blonde was trying to ignore the curl at the sides of his boyfriend’s lips. Even after being yelled at and practically manhandled inside, Yuri knew Beka had taken the time to try and understand him. It was hard to look at him right now. On one hand, the Russian felt petty. And ungrateful. But, on the other hand, he was still not able to shake this feeling. In the end, he was looking for validation more than anything else.

        The blonde was going to let go of Beka’s hand to lean back against the wall (beside him, but not facing him). The Kazakh noticed and didn’t let go of Yuri’s hand. Instead, they both leaned back with their intertwined fingers in between them. Their cats were sprawled on the couch, paying no attention. Yuri licked his lips and faced forward, he could sense Otabek staring at his profile.

         - Do you not see anything wrong with some girl smelling your clothes?

         _Here I go again, sounding saltier than my own cooking._

 - It kinda freaks me out, to be honest. Isn’t she, like, fifteen?

         The blonde scoffed. – As if. You know better than anybody that they don’t let minors in.

         - Fake ID? – He sounded so sleepy. – No way the girl’s legal, she looks like a child.

         Yuri yanked his hand away, which seemed to startle Otabek, who suddenly had his eyes wide open. The blonde turned around, to face diagonally at his boyfriend, and crossed his arms on his chest.

         - Is that your way of saying she’s cute?

        Yeah, he really must’ve looked like somebody out of Mean Girls for the way Otabek subtly choked on a laugh.

        - No? – it sounded like “Are you for real?” – It’s the universal way of saying that she looks like a child.

        - Get that smug off your face, Altin, I’m onto you.

        - Wow, that sounds offensive already.

        Yuri ignored the comment. – I was sixteen when you got the hots for me.

        - I was eighteen when I got the hots for you.

        Otabek stating it as blatantly as he had made the blonde’s cheeks blush unconsciously.

        - Anyhow, - Yuri started, way too fast – she’s not a minor. What’s your next excuse?

        - For what?

        - "For what?"! – he shouted – I don’t know, maybe for giving your clothes to the first pretty groupie you see?!

        - She was not—Yuri showed him the death-glare. Otabek wouldn’t be caught dead finishing that sentence ("not the first pretty groupie I saw"). – Love, the girl had spilled coke on her shirt and she was sad ‘cause it would ruin the picture, so I just figured I had an extra one—

        - YOU SWEAT ON THAT SHIRT, OTABEK! THERE’S, LIKE, YOUR FUCKING DNA ALL OVER IT!

        Otabek was so confused.

        He _was_ seriously that dense.

        In his frustration, Yuri turned and started pacing from one side to the other in the living room, pressing his lips together. As much as he wanted to listen to the side of him that said that this was a stupid argument, God, he hated her. Eventually, Beka walked up to him, his arms were crossed on his chest, getting defensive for being yelled at, most likely.

       - You’re worried she might frame me for murder? – it sounded sarcastic, but it was the only thing the Kazakh could come up with.

       Yuri started trying to put his hair up in a bun, but kept failing because of his shaking hands and ended up just messing it more.

       - Do you not know what someone’s smell can make people do?! I wear your clothes all the time, Beka, I know!

       - I might have an idea, but I’d very much rather hear it from you. – he teased.

       The blonde’s eyes widened and he pushed the Kazakh’s shoulder lightly with one hand once, so much that Beka’s feet remained where they stood. – **How can you** — then twice  – **You know I’m pissed, how** – - three times  – **You’re such an asshole** —

       Yuri felt his boyfriend’s arms wrap around his waist and tried to push him away.

       - Do you want me to apologize?

       He swallowed and looked down. – Would you even?

       - Maybe not for giving her the shirt ‘cause I honestly didn’t mean anything of it and I would do it for—

       - You’d do it for anybody.  – the Russian whispered and hated that his voice cracked. He huffed, trying to force a smile, but ended up sniffing as his eyes threatened to water. – I know.

       _But I wanted to be special._  

       The Kazakh gently placed his hand on the back of Yuri’s head and pulled him closer, so they would be cheek-to-cheek, for Yuri to be able to hide his face and cry freely if he needed to. The blonde was just standing there, his fists still trapped between their chests. It made him so conflicted. Being held like this – nursed, taken care of, protected – made him feel like a baby, but… He still wanted it and longed for it when those were too far out of his reach. It made him feel warm inside. Yeah, he could probably cry, but he wouldn’t.

       - But I would for hurting your feelings. Apologize, I mean. – Beka continued. – Yura, I’m sorry. – The blonde’s eyes widened when it reached his years. To be held like this… He craved it. – It doesn’t matter if I meant to or not. I’m sorry.

       Otabek stretched his neck to hug him without forcing Yuri to hug him back, not narrowing the space in between them. The older man’s hand started moving, slowly and gently, up and down Yuri’s blonde hair. _When was it exactly that you figured it all out?_ Otabek maybe couldn’t pinpoint what made Yuri angry because of his explosive personality, but he knew what made him sad. The Russian’s one fear was meeting once more the cold that he hadn’t been able to handle as a child. Living in this country all of his years, Yuri had never shivered in the winter as much as he did when he felt alone.

       He heard his boyfriend snap his fingers and the cats were quickly lying on their feet.

       - What are you thinking about? – the Kazakh asked.

       Yuri recognized that tone. He was about to be led into a therapy session.

_Calling the cats over was some sort of intervention, right? An intervention with kitties. A kittenvention._

_Am I high?_

      The blonde tried to shrug the dumb off and shook his head, which his boyfriend took as a cue to let go of his hair. It hadn’t been. He bent his neck to rest his forehead on the man’s shoulder, shoving his hands back into the pockets of his jacket, and took a deep breath.

       - Can you say that you’re gay? – He wasn’t asking for it. It was an honest question.

       - I definitely can’t say I’m not. – Otabek replied. – But you’re the only guy I’ve ever been attracted to, so I don’t know? I guess I’m being g-- - He clicked his tongue – I don’t even know, I don’t think about it that much.

       The blonde nodded as much as he could in that position and licked his lips before standing upright and making his way to the kitchen to get a glass of water – as one would when they wanted to pretend that they weren’t paranoid. He had hoped for a different answer. “Who cares, I only want you” would’ve saved him a world of hurt. _You should’ve just dismissed me completely._ He looked at the Kazakh, who had been observing him silently, over his shoulder.

       - You want some? – The Russian tried to ask as naturally as possible.

       - Yura.

       - No? Then I’ll— he stepped in front of the sink, meaning to wash his glass, but felt Beka grab his free hand, then take the glass out of the other and place it loudly in the sink.

      The older man led them around the counter and placed his hands on Yuri’s sides, asking for permission to lift him up and have him sit there. Yuri did it himself. The Kazakh took a step back, scratching his shirt with his fingers as if his heart were hurting, then looked straight into Yuri’s eyes.

       - Do you think I’m stupid? – It was also an honest question.

       - What? – the blonde questioned.

       - Don’t you think I can tell that what we have going on between us is a once in a lifetime thing?

       - Right now, you may think this way, but—

      He reached for the blonde’s knees and looked up at him.  – Baby… - he breathed – What exactly do you think would change my mind?

      The blonde crisscrossed his own fingers between his thighs, nervously fidgeting, and looked up.

      - I don’t know, I mean… - he started – Like, I know the sex is better, but once that’s old news,you’ll fall back… - he took a deep breath to keep himself from tearing – to your natural… Instincts…

      - You think my natural instinct is to sweet-talk girls that come to my concerts?

     Yuri felt like he was about to _say it one more_ time after his grandfather told him to _say it one more time._

 - Any… Girl… Actually…

      The Kazakh laughed and looked down, still supporting himself on Yuri’s knees. The blonde slapped the side of his boyfriend’s head, mortified by the reaction. _“Don’t be a dick”, “Sorry, sorry”._ Otabek crossed his arms on Yuri’s thighs when he placed his hands on his sides. Then, Beka rested his cheek on his arms, stretching his legs to get comfortable, and look up at Yuri.

      - I don’t get those kinds of urges, love. – he said.

      - Come on, you fucked Karina.

      - And you, Damyen. It doesn’t mean he’s your instinctive mate or whatever.

      - It’s different, I can never be anything close to a chick—

      Otabek wrapped his arms around Yuri. The blonde never thought he’d see his boyfriend resting his head on his lap and clinging to him like this. It was cute.

      - You can’t be anything close to anyone. Actually, nobody can be anything close to you.

       Yuri grinned and huffed. He was so in love with that man. Maybe that was the reason that he was so afraid. But he started running his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair anyway and he slowly closed his eyes. _You’re Virgin-fucking-Mary._

      - Go to bed, Beka. – he said and the Kazakh shook his head slightly. – Come on, you’re beat.

      - Come with me.

      - I’ll get our cats settled, then I’ll—

      - Then, no. – he said, brushing his cheek on Yuri’s jeans – I won’t be able to sleep with you mad at me.

      He could easily deny that.

      - I’m not—

      - Or with you alone with your thoughts.

      But not that. So he said “okay” and waited for Beka to lazily adjust to get down the counter and make his way to the bedroom, asking the Kazakh to follow.

      - I actually got the hots for you when I was thirteen. – the Kazakh suddenly said from behind him. Yuri’s hair slapped his face because of the speed in which he turned around. – Maybe not “the hots”, but I was hooked for sure. – Beka walked towards him, running his fingers into Yuri’s hair. The blonde could feel the warmth of his palm over his ear. – You were simply the most inspiring thing I had ever seen. Still are. – the Kazakh’s thumb started lining Yuri’s cheekbone – When I saw you for the first time, I didn’t want to skate. I thought it wasn’t for me. I wanted to give up, but my parents wouldn’t let me. But, you… - he smiled – beautiful, I saw you and I thought “I want to be in the same universe as him”. Because you made it freeing. Everything about you screams freedom. For a person like me, whose ears had never had a minute’s rest, you… You were my wings. -  He kissed the blonde’s forehead - I’m sorry for getting carried away and not paying attention. But you – he hooked the Russian’s chin and kissed his lips – Set the bar way too high for anyone to follow. And I sure as hell ain’t settling for less.

 

 

* * *

 

**Drinking doesn't Always have to lead to disaster - Part II**

_**Orin's house, after the official proposal** _

 

* * *

 

 

     _“Yeah, me and the entire  female demographic.”_

     Otabek’s eyes lost their light as soon as the words reached his ears. He nodded slightly and pressed his lips together, trying to accept that he had, really, just heard that and it wasn’t the alcohol getting to his brain. “Oh, yeah, we have this problem”, he remembered. That detail had gotten lost amidst the picturesque memories the Kazakh had replayed in his mind for months. Yuri’s jealousy, when it was all about Yuri and his own doubts, mostly didn’t get to him because the older man knew that whatever his boyfriend said was almost always meant towards whoever the girl was that had ticked him off. And, yes, it had to be girls. Yuri never once had felt threatened by other men that came onto Otabek.

       The Kazakh slowly let go of the blonde. Not even for being disappointed – which, I kid you not, he was, but at everything else that had made Yuri so afraid of being replaced -, simply because, after hearing the affirmation, it was just awkward to keep holding him. He sincerely didn’t know if Yuri was just putting his concerns out there or honestly believed that Otabek was actually interested in anybody else other than him. The blonde didn’t seem to mind.

       - Vitya, - they heard Mila mumble at the phone – your loose cannon is firing all over the place _again!_

  Yuri instantly furrowed his eyebrows. – Mila, this is embarrassing to your soul.

       - And he’s not only a bitch to Beka, but to me, too, Vityaaa—

       - малыш **,** your phone has been dead for an hour, remember? – Orin carefully took the cell out of her hand. Yuri scoffed. – But you really are too old for passive-aggressiveness, Yuri.

       - You’re too new into the group to comment, Orin. – Beka reflexively fired. He was standing up for Yuri before he even had the time to think about the people that were actually standing up for him. – Just… Nevermind, alright? Let’s go, cab’s waiting.

        The blonde murmured “Hang on” already making his way towards Kai and Remi. Beka instinctively followed. His bandmates were sitting next to each other, playing with each other’s hands like thirteen-year-olds. The Kazakh had caught on that they had been pining for each other for a long time, maybe ever since they’d met. Kai was a shy, introspective guy. Like a softer version of Otabek, if you would. He used to have hair in a shade of blonde that was almost white and light-brown eyes, but he had dyed his locks black when Remi had started dating. It should have been that airhead’s first clue, but Remi couldn’t pick up on it and, honestly, Otabek didn’t know if he was willing to take the leap, even though it was clear that the tension was there. Maybe all he needed was a bad break-up and a bottle of vodka to realize that gender meant shit.

       -  Yo, straights, - the blonde called – do you guys have condoms?

      Otabek frowned. They had a habit of carrying condoms in their wallets – when you were dating Yuri Plisetsky, you never knew when they would come in handy – and _shouldn’t he be the one his own boyfriend would ask condoms to?_

      - Nah, sorry. – Remi replied, and Beka knew the disappointed in his voice was not for not being able to help a friend out.

       – I guess big boss Lucifer was looking out for ya, that’s why we strangely didn’t engage in hot engagement sex in the bathroom. – he opened Kai’s hand, placed the condom on his palm, then closed it. His cheeks turned vivid red, Otabek worried they might melt. – Water doesn’t work, but conditioner does. – the blonde pointed out, before putting his hands in his jacket pockets and turning around. – Welcome to the new world, kids. – he said, waving them goodbye.

       Unconsciously, a grin had formed on Otabek’s lips, then turned into a smile. Seriously, how did Yuri do it? It was astonishing how he was wrapped around that Russian beauty’s little finger and gladly so. That blonde, green-eyed feline with a smart-mouth, always so brazen, so unpredictable, so undeniably himself was the one person in the world who was able to bring out such exposed reactions out of Otabek. And he did so easily, so unknowingly. Sometimes it was hard to believe that Yuri wasn’t imaginary.

        The Kazakh had never believed in perfection. As a matter of fact, he thought a perfect person would be a flawed one just for the lack of distinctive quirks. He did, however, found logical that there would be a perfect match for everyone, quirks and all. His entire life, Otabek had been called every variation of the word “cold”. It was like he had been born with merged heart and mind. Everything that he felt came in words and thoughts and thorough analysis. His head would be always too busy to think of showing a person a smile or a pat on the back. But Yuri… He had never known what it was like to be impulsive until he saw Yuri in front of a hotel in Barcelona, when he was eighteen, and he needed to get close to him. He needed to look at him. 

         _“What are you staring at, asshole?”_

He chuckled in his head then.

          Since both were the same, he heard the _thump_ of his heart.

          The Ice Tiger of Russian had already conquered him whole.

          Yuri winked as he made to walk past Otabek, but the older man took a side-step to block his way. It was so clear, now. Loving Yuri Plisetsky was one epiphany after the other. The blonde waited with a brow raised.

         - Look, I’m gonna need you to stop with the remarks about women, okay? – then he said the rest with one breath: - Anybody can see from a mile away how stupidly in love with you I am, so you sound like a basket case every time you come up with these things and I’m honestly embarrassed for you.

          The Kazakh swallowed and expected his fiancé’s reaction. Yuri’s lips parted a bit and Beka cursed the moment he had opened his mouth, but, then, the blonde showed his teeth when his chin dropped, letting out an amused gasp. The laughter started growing from his stomach, then reaching the younger man’s lips, Yuri shut his eyes tightly like he had heard the world’s funniest joke. He threw his head down and placed both hands on his bent knees, still laughing.

         - Somebody _needs_ to make a sitcom character out of you. – the blonde said, as he straightened his back again and brushed his hair to the side with one hand.

        Otabek wasn’t quite sure of what to make out of the reaction, but Yuri smiled. His cheeks were flushed and his face looked fresh, as if there wasn't a tense joint in his body anymore. The Kazakh wished he could take a picture of him right now. The blonde stretched out his arm in the space between them, closing one eye and showing the other man a thumbs-up, blocking Otabek’s right eye from the green eyes’ sight with his languid thumb, like one would to erase the moon from the night sky. If he were to continue with the metaphor, Beka would state that there was no need for a moon. That smile. It was bright enough for him to find his way in the dark.

        - You got it. – Yuri assured him.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, reader-writer-and-sweetheart @yamagusheep made a playlist for this fic! It's all her flawless music taste, all I did was make one on YouTube for you guys to listen to it, if you'd like - the songs really do fit (thx again, cutie)
> 
> [[here's a link]](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLoyK7VozRFT2ioE6wYtzDLXBBzc8tU_2t)
> 
> (I'll leave in the prologue as well)
> 
> I only have one more of these extras planned, but I'll still be seeing you soon, so yay <3  
> Jealous Yuri is such a hc.

**Author's Note:**

> Three Cheers for Five Years is a song by Mayday Parade and, though this fic was not inspired by it initially, the lyrics seemed to fit, so I decided to use it as the title.  
> See you guys soon!  
> Much (boys) love,  
> \- G.


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